The Snow Gardens
by That Girl Six
Summary: Three weeks after Chris's death, the family is in pieces trying to find their way back to one another in all the wrong ways. As each deal with their grief, the future, past, and present all come into question while they try to save their broken family.
1. If You Don't Mind Broken Things

**Disclaimer:** I don't own my education yet, so I really don't think I can afford to buy a copyright. Until then, I'm just having some fun.

**Author's Note:** For those of you who have never had to trudge through my writing, I went to the Stephen King School of Logorrhea. I write incredibly long chapters, but they are all divided into smaller sections. There are breaks for you to breathe, grab a Fresca and M&Ms, or any adult beverage of choice. I hope this ends up being as much an adventure for you as it was for me. There won't be any sequels or anything like that, but I think I was able to cover all the bases here. It's three years' worth of work, so I hope you enjoy. / I am removing all of the notes at the end of the final chapter. I was a little too crazy on the credits. / Happy reading! Six

**ETA July 2012:** I have learned so much about writing in the last few years, things I thought I knew but obviously didn't. (Seriously? Word count, Wordy McWordyson. Good grief!) So yes, this story is still the same monster I've had here for years, but I'm slowly trying to improve it, section by section, so you probably won't notice until I'm done. It still isn't perfect — I'd have to start over for something like that — but it's definitely getting better (and shorter!). When it's done, I'll be breaking it up into smaller chapters as well. Until I'm done ... If you reread, or if you're new the to party, ENJOY! (but know it's still a changing, living thing). Thanks for your time, whether I hear about it or not. — Six

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**The Snow Gardens**  
_by That Girl Six_

**Chapter One  
If You Don't Mind Broken Things**

**I.**

Everything falls apart. Sometimes it's a small chip off the top to knock a girl down a few pegs, or the entire structure of the thing collapses from inside out to make her start all over. It doesn't matter how it happens. Shit just happens, like the bumper sticker says. At one point or another, every single damned thing falls apart.

If anyone in the world would know that, it was Phoebe Halliwell.

Even with everything she'd been through over the last six, almost seven years, it was amazing how little her life had actually changed, no matter how much good she did or how much she sacrificed. Before she knew she was a witch, her adult life had been about wandering and hoping for the next big thing to come along that could duct tape her life together for a little while. Later, it became about retaining her own happiness as well as everyone else's. Innocent after Innocent, demon after demon, one royal mess after another, there never seemed to be an end to the quick fixes and repairs to tide herself and her sisters over until the next thing came along to blow it all to pieces again anyway. She was awfully tired of spending her life putting pieces together instead of getting to enjoy even a small full picture, especially with the picture she was seeing these days.

Still, her broken life was the only one she had. It wasn't like she hadn't figured out a long time ago that being a Charmed One, fighting demons so the rest of the world wouldn't have to, would cause a little chaos in her life. Insanity was her job. Most of the time, it wasn't a bad gig at all. It came with powers (most of the time) and adventure (a lot of the time) and a definite lack of boredom (pretty much all of the time). It would just be nice if the job came with paid vacation — or vacation at all.

Vacation would be heaven — a vacation from life, from having to hurt, from having to feel anything at all. Of course, she knew that didn't make her any different from every other person on the planet. She had felt this way many, many times before she knew who she was, just as she had after releasing the dormant witch inside. Every time she and Prue had hung up on one another, every time Grams had begged her to explain why she was wasting her life, every time another now-faceless man had left her, she'd been well in touch with those emotions. _Let me out. Gimme a break. Even if it's just for a massage or something, let me out._ And just like every other person in the world, she got over it and started over until the next big thing happened. That was what ordinary people did. That was what she was supposed to do after a while, too. Otherwise, what were they going through all of this for?

Today, though, she would wallow all she wanted. Normal people got to once in a while, too, right? At least, she thought she remembered being able to wallow. Besides, her life had once again been blown up in huge proportions and, by God, she had earned a good pout. In the last month, she'd given up one of her oldest, most trusted friends, her active powers, one of her nephews, and yet another chunk of her heart. Nothing on this plane could keep her from having a good old fashioned mope fest.

"Uh? Phoebe?"

Except maybe Elise. Damn it.

Phoebe sighed deep, rolled her closed eyes, and opened them to look at Elise, her mind already racing to find an excuse. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry, and it won't happen again, I swear."

"Whatever _what_ was?"

"Whatever it is you're here to yell at me for?" Phoebe weakly guessed, her eyebrows raised in realization that she wasn't going to get yelled at and had made a fool of herself (again). Like she hadn't given Elise enough reasons to wonder if she was an escaped mental patient, right?

Elise's eyes crinkled in concern. Without being invited, she took a seat in the chair in front of Phoebe's desk, folding her hands softly in her lap as they stared each other down. "What's wrong?"

Not wanting to get into it with her boss — _Pick a problem, Elise, any one, I've got plenty_ — Phoebe shrugged innocently and leaned back into her chair. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"Well, didn't your sister have a baby the other day?"

"Yeah. Christopher. He's beautiful."

"Then why do you sound like the sky is falling and you lost your best friend all in the same day when you say that?"

Phoebe's glare wasn't exactly the kindest look ever directed at Elise. "What part of 'he's beautiful' suggests that? My nephew is perfect. He's healthy, and Piper made it through the surgery fine. We couldn't be happier. We're all fine."

Elise didn't say anything for a while. Instead, she turned her attention to the framed photographs on the shelf behind Phoebe's head. She stared at them with a strange, nostalgic smile before she rose to circle behind the desk. Reaching up to grab one, careful to pick out the right one, she nodded approvingly. She held the baby blue frame tenderly, running her fingers over the sparkly letters that spelled out _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. She placed the frame on the desk in front of Phoebe so that the little face in it looked right back up at her. Phoebe's glare turned even colder.

"What do you want from me?"

Elise pointed at the disregarded picture frame. "I want you to look at that picture. Remember when Wyatt was born. Remember how excited you were about his life, how crazy you drove every single person in this office because you were constantly showing us pictures and telling us about every burp, every tear, every diaper, every giggle, and every single other thing he did. I want you to look at that little face and remember. Then when you've felt all of that again, I want you to look at me and tell me why you aren't in the least bit excited about this new baby."

Only because she knew it was the only way to get Elise off her back did Phoebe look at the photo. Who the hell did Elise think she was, telling her she didn't love Christopher as much as she loved Wyatt? Elise had no idea. She had a lot more to deal with from Christopher's birth. _A lot more._ That didn't mean he was any less loved. What business was it of Elise's anyway? She certainly had no idea what had happened to her family in the last nine days or the last twenty months. For her to criticize how Phoebe was celebrating her nephew's birth was just . . . just . . . She had _no _idea. Even her sisters couldn't know, not really. No one could. This was just . . . Ridiculous? Ludicrous? Mean? Stupid? None of her business!

"Just because I'm not saying as much about Christopher as I did Wyatt — "

Gently but quite firmly, Elise interrupted. "That's just it: you aren't saying anything _at all_. I wouldn't have even known about him yet, except Gary down in Records asked me if that was your sister's name he was publishing in the birth announcements section. No one else here knew either. They're all waiting to congratulate you and your family, by the way. They have been for six days since the announcement appeared, but you seem to be locked here in your office and don't seem excited about him at all."

Annoyed at the shock Phoebe was getting — but certainly not outwardly denying that maybe there was at least a little truth to what Elise was saying — she defended herself with a harsh, "I care about Christopher. I love him more than you can imagine."

"Then _cheer up_. Give him as big a welcome into this world as you did for Wyatt. Trust me. He won't know it now, but as kids get older, they can tell when they're being treated differently than their brothers and sisters. Get out of that habit now before it even gets started."

All kinds of small things Chris had done or said came back to Phoebe in a rush. Every indication that Chris and Wyatt had had very different experiences growing up was right there in front of her, the most obvious being Chris's upset utterance of "_It's not like I don't have an inferiority complex about him already_". When Paige had told her Chris said that, her heart had broken from imagining all of the things said and done around Chris to make him feel that way. Paige said she'd teased him about it, but only because she hadn't known what else to say to him. How could any of them apologize for things they didn't even know they would do at some unspecified point in the future, no matter how awful it made them feel now? Now her heart broke all over again as what Elise tried to tell her sunk in, terrible, hard, and fast.

She was already doing it. Baby Christopher (they had all developed the habit of distinguishing the two for now) wasn't even ten days old yet, but she was already treating him differently than she had Wyatt. What the hell was she doing?

"You're right," Phoebe whispered slowly. "Christopher deserves better than what I've given him so far. I don't know why I — well, I do, but I never thought I would actually — nevermind. Long story. I've just been distracted by other things."

"There are always distractions."

Of course, Elise couldn't possibly know how right she was. There _would_ always be distractions for the Halliwells. A demon had already attacked the house since Christopher had been home. Their other problems would always be there. Things would always happen, normal family stuff along with Charmed One family stuff. Neither of the boys should be punished for that. A smile flickered over her face as she admitted as much to Elise without admitting anything in the way of wrong-doing. "When did you get to be so smart about this stuff?"

Elise chuckled wryly. "I'm the fourth of five girls, and we're _all_ in therapy."

"That explains _so_ much," Phoebe teased, laughing for the first time in almost two weeks. It felt good to laugh, especially over something so normal, so non-magical. Elise joined her in her laughter, not seeming to care that the giggles were coming at her expense. When they both let it die off, Phoebe reached a hand over to Elise, who took it happily. "Thank you. I'm sorry."

"You can make it up to me by bringing me some Polaroids of the little angel tomorrow."

"That's a promise."

Elise stood up from her chair and made to leave, but instead turned back at the last moment. There was an earnestness to her expression that she had worn only on one or two occasions with Phoebe, but when she did, she had the best of her heart behind it. "I know we aren't really what I would call friends, but every once in a while, if there is something you can't tell your sisters, you _can_ come to me. Sometimes even advice columnists need help from someone else."

Knowing what the woman was driving at, Phoebe smiled gratefully. "We'll get through this one okay, but I'll keep that in mind the next time something big comes up."

"All right." Elise nodded. As she reached for the knob to shut the office door, she asked, "Pictures tomorrow?"

"And a play by play of everything he does tonight."

The door closed with the excited squeal that only pictures of newborn babies can extract, leaving Phoebe once again alone with nothing but her thoughts, memories she didn't particularly want at the moment, and her ringing cell phone.

**II.**

Across town, Paige Matthews struggled in a much different way. While everyone else in the Halliwell household mourned the loss of Chris more than celebrating the arrival of Baby Christopher, she went of her way to be overly cheerful about her new nephew. She had every intention of celebrating for all of them if she had to. Future past mistakes wouldn't be made this time. She would enjoy the new baby if it killed her.

Of course, that would be a lot easier to do if she could get out of her head the adult voice of her nephew protesting, "_I'm the baby. I give you permission not to._"

She missed him. She didn't want to. She didn't want to think about him at all right now. When she thought about Chris, her mind might _start_ on a fun memory, but each and every time her mind gave way to the image of him lying there on his parents' bed, slowly dying with pain and fear no one could stop.

No. No. Absolutely not. Not again.

Paige shoved the memory down into some choked place in the back of her throat, opting instead to fiddle with a rack of beer glasses she had already washed twice. At least P3 couldn't be hit with a health code violation any time soon, she told herself. Besides, work was always a good deterrent to depression. There was no shortage of things to do, especially with Piper still out of commission for a few more days. Things at the club, like The Vines showing up in another hour, wouldn't stop because their lives were in upheaval. If that were true, it never would have opened in the first place. So the Vines were coming, and she had to help set up. When that was done, there were always plenty of things to do around the house. She had put some money away so that, if Leo would help her, they could build a new bedroom down in the basement so Wyatt could have a new bedroom upstairs while she moved downstairs. Simply having a new baby in the house was work, too. She had plenty to do so she wouldn't have to think about —

No. Absolutely not. No.

"Paige?"

A distraction! Thank God!

Paige swiveled around to the source of the voice with a huge smile plastered over her brightly painted red lips. "Hey, Ray!"

The bartender jumped back, startled at the blast of greeting. With a wide-eyed chuckle he asked, "Well, aren't we chipper this afternoon? Too much caffeine in the coffee again?"

"We have a new baby in the house. How else should I be?"

"Fair enough." He laughed. "How are they, by the way — Piper and the baby?"

She set down the glass she had been vanquishing of fingerprints and bubbled over with happy hand gestures in every direction. "They couldn't be better. I mean, Piper's still kind of sore, but for a while there we didn't think she was going to make it through the surgery at all, so 'sore' is pretty much an improvement in my book. We're all pretty happy she's okay. The baby is fabulous. He's perfect — ten fingers and ten toes. He has Leo's eyes, definitely Leo's eyes. I know they say it can't happen yet, but I'm pretty sure he smiled at me this morning when I left the house. It's really wonderful. They're both just fine."

"What did she name him?"

"Christopher, after his grandfather," she told him, happy she could tag that last piece of information on the end there. At least they knew now where his name came from. It really would have sucked if, when he was old enough to be in school, he asked why his parents had chosen 'Christopher' and they couldn't tell him. Somehow, 'because your future self told us that was your name' didn't seem like an answer that would go over very well. Repeating it with the replay in her head of Chris finally offering them the tidbit of information, she said, "It was Leo's father's name."

"That's nice. I'm named after my grandfather, too. Both of them, actually, but that's not anything I want getting around."

"That bad, huh?"

"Araylias Alvin."

Paige wrinkled her nose in sympathy. "Yikes!"

"No kidding," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I don't know _what_ my mom was smoking that day. But that's where the 'Ray' comes from. Don't get me wrong — I loved my grandpas, but I swear, some parents are so cruel."

"If my sister ever even tried to do that, I would kill her myself so her kids' kindergarten teacher wouldn't have to," Paige joked. "I do like 'Christopher', though. Granted, there were probably thirty of them in my class, but maybe then it won't be so popular for kids his age. I would hate for him to be 'Chris H.' or something. 'Chris' really suits him. You just look at him and think, 'Baby Christopher'. He looks like a 'Chris'."

"Then it's a good thing you didn't go with Percival."

"Percival?" asked Paige, again with an offended crinkle in her nose. "What gave you that idea?"

"My brother doesn't want you to know." Pulling his focus back to the business at hand of running a particularly hot _Hot Spot_, Ray asked, "Do you have any idea what time the band wants to run sound and light checks?"

Paige shook her currently dark head, nearly black strands falling into her eyes. She huffed them out of the way and backed out from behind the bar, answering even as she moved to check. "It's in Piper's calendar somewhere. I left it back in the office when I came in."

"Got it," said Ray, flipping over the first of many barstools to be flipped. Almost as an afterthought, he called after her. "Hey, Paige? While you're back there, look for a note from your friend Chris, would you? A package came for him while you were at the bank, and I was hoping he'd left a note or something telling you what to do with it, or if he was even expecting something."

Without even thinking about what Ray was saying, Paige answered, "Sure. Leave it on the bar for me, would you?"

"I put it next to the register."

"Perfect."

"You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Seen who?" asked Paige automatically, still not really hearing what was being said.

Ray looked at her, concerned now that he caught on to her distraction. "Chris. We were talking about your friend Chris. No one's seen him since last Tuesday, and we were starting to wonder where he was. Have you seen him?" When she didn't answer him, Ray asked, "Paige? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Piper and the baby are just fine. He's perfect," Paige answered, still a little too much on the chipper end of the spectrum. The mention of their 'friend' jarred her a little too hard back to thinking about things and people she didn't want to think about, couldn't think about. _No. Band in the club. New baby. Work to do. New baby. New baby. Get to the office. It's safe in the office._ Paige jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the office door and quickly made a break for it. "I'll only be a minute."

She didn't wait for Ray to answer her. There wasn't enough time. She had to move. The more she moved and the more she did, the less she had to think. Even as she walked, she realized her hands didn't have anything to do, so she reached up and twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers in the hope that the action would be enough to keep herself occupied until the next task of opening the office door.

Panic hit her. She was in the office, but she couldn't remember for the life of her _why_ in the hell she was in the office. Happy thoughts about the new baby weren't going to overshadow other feelings coming back where they weren't . The date book. Piper's date book. She dashed over to the desk, violently rifling through everything on the desk and in the drawers. The repetitive motion occupied her hands, and the constant chanting tried to occupy her mind (and hopefully her heart, too).

_New baby. Time to celebrate. Celebrate because the others can't. New baby. Celebrate. New baby. New baby. Things to do. New baby. Celebrate._

In her distraction, Paige shifted a page too quickly. It sliced through her skin, nice and throbbing, leaving a line of red right on the crease between her thumb and the rest of her hand. With a yelp, she dropped the sheaf of papers and drew the wound to her mouth. She whimpered as she tried to suck the sting away, only to have to give up and slump back into Piper's cushy ergonomic chair.

Though it hadn't ever done her any good, Paige took a wild chance that someone besides her sort-of brother-in-law was Up There listening to her as she grumped, "Like I don't have enough in my life to hurt me right now? You have to send freaking office supplies after me now, too?"

Instinctively, her eyes darted around the room, looking for a familiar trail of bluish orbs floating around to indicate someone from Up There intended to swoop in with an answer for her. It didn't take long before her bright brown eyes grew tired of looking for the answer that wasn't coming. The longer she waited, the harder it became to want to distract herself with happy thoughts about Baby Christopher. Too tired to fight the bad stuff, her barrier of happiness (hopefully only temporarily) broke down. Instead, she found herself trapped, helpless, and frustrated as all hell that she couldn't heal even a simple paper cut.

"_Healing is kinda big_," Chris told her once, long before they'd known who he was. _No kidding_. Still, his voice was the one to remind her. As if the annoying sting wasn't enough to remind her, right? _Thanks for the reminder, kid, really. You're a big help._

"I suppose a paper cut is a little below Your radar," she sniped at no one in particular and every single one of Them Up There. "Apparently _a lot_ of things are below your radar."

Suddenly then, there it was, that thing she would rather erase from her mind forever than ever think of it again. There it was, right there, playing for her in full Technicolor brightness in her mind.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she pleaded with Those who weren't listening to her. "Take this one away? Please? Before I have to see it again? Please? It's not like we don't do plenty for You. You're perfectly capable of erasing memories. You've done it over and over for whatever reason suits You. You people wanted to kill my nephew. You got the wrong one, of course, but it was what You wanted. You _owe us_. You owe me that much. Take this one memory. Just this one. I can't see it again. Please? I've seen it enough to last me ten lifetimes."

Since the Elders refused to help her (as They so often did when she and her sisters wanted Their somewhat aggravating input), the memory consumed her, and her pleas slowly died off to pathetic whimpers until all she could do was hope that somehow it would go faster this time.

Even though she knew it wasn't real, that it was only a memory in her head, her left arm was overcome with ickiness. She could feel it along with the memory as the SWAT guy, for the millionth time already, hauled her to her feet like she was nothing more than a rag doll, which hadn't been too far from the truth at the time. Sheridan hit her pretty hard. Then when, in her mind, she was fully standing up, Darryl and that bitch cop Sheridan joyfully jumped right back on her, demanding to know where Chris was.

"_I know he's here, Paige_," Darryl chirped, a sick smile on his face. "_It's not like he has any other place to go. Don't lie to me. I would hate to see you lose your tongue. Where is he?_"

Darryl's twisted song didn't stop ringing in her ears when Sheridan had twittered to the (completely unnecessary) thirty SWAT guys, "_Search every room. He has to be in one of them. Start with the basement and attic and move in toward the middle floors. Let's get a move on, people._"

One of the bastards started whistling _Whistle While You Work_ as they'd all skipped toward the stairs. The guy holding her arm had the nerve to ask Paige, "_Beautiful day, isn't it?_"

Paige held her tongue, not wanting to get knocked flat to the floor again, but she had at least the satisfaction of rolling her eyes at the back of his head. She turned back to confront this dementedly sweet Darryl, but he'd already sauntered around her toward the stairs. She dashed over to meet him and grabbed his hand, trying to hold him back long enough that she might actually reach into him the way Leo had broken through to her and Phoebe. "_Darryl, please, don't do this. He's already hurt. Just leave him alone. Please?_"

"_He broke the law_," Darryl sang, seemingly not feeling anything other than the giddy.

Paige remembered thinking at that point that if he never sang another note, she would be able to die happy. It'd been getting old, especially under the circumstances. She hadn't even seen Chris yet, but Leo had been perfectly clear: they needed to find Gideon — quickly, for Chris's sake, and Wyatt's. Wasting time listening to these completely oblivious people hadn't been part of the plan. Taking care of Chris had been the plan.

"_He needs to pay his fine and take his punishment_," Darryl continued, hitting a rather high E flat for someone with his range. The memory of it made Paige sick.

Paige clearly remembered losing what little care she had for the rules. Something had snapped inside her. Screw exposure. She gave Darryl a particularly nasty look, and after making sure no one was looking in her direction, she allowed herself to disappear in a swirl of bluish orbs.

Taking a wild guess that Leo would have taken his son to the room he had once shared with Piper, Paige had been quite relieved to find she was right. The memory of her body reconstituted itself at Chris's side where, seeing him lying there, she lost all composure. Leo hadn't been exaggerating. There was no way, not with all that blood, that Chris wasn't dying. Twenty-two years old or not, he looked terribly small. He jumped at her appearance, but that movement alone seemed to have taken a lot out of him because he closed his eyes and caught his breath. Once he had the energy, he worked up a half-smile, happy to see her.

Her memory grinned reassuringly back when she heard the heavy footsteps of the SWAT guys trampling on their newly-cleaned rugs in the hallway. She held her finger to her lips to shush him so she could tiptoe over to the bedroom door and shut it with, hopefully, as little squeak as possible. As soon as it shut, she dropped to his side. Brushing his constantly unruly hair out of his eyes with one hand, she squeezed one of his clammy hands with the other. Their eyes met for a moment in mutual love and mutual fear, which was quickly (and forever) amplified by the sound of a hand turning the locked doorknob.

"_We have to get you out of here_."

"_Go where? There's nowhere to go. Gideon is the only one who can stop this._"

"_Yeah, well, he tried to kill you, and he's taken Wyatt; I'm not relying on that sonofabitch to do anything to help us right now_. _But at least somewhere else you'll be safer than you are here. Darryl brought in an entire cavalry to bring you in, and they're going to find us any second. I need to get you some place safe._"

Her hand gripped his a little bit tighter and prepared to orb them both out of the room when the door was unceremoniously kicked open to reveal a grinning Darryl. "_Don't try to orb out of here. You'll have to come back to the house eventually, and we'll wait here until you do._" Then, just as chipperly, he nodded his head back toward the small army of geared up men behind him. High on happiness, he sang, "_Take him._"

Even as the memory replayed in her mind, Paige felt the absolute sickness in her gut as if she were living it the first time. She could see Chris's eyes, so weak and afraid and completely helpless. He hadn't been able to protect himself from a fly, let alone thirty sweaty guys in commando gear. As the unstoppable force of the memory continued on in her head, she begged whoever was listening one more time, "Please? Before this goes any further? Please. Make this one stop?"

But it didn't stop. She wrapped her arms tightly around her head and tried to shield herself in the darkness of the office, but she still couldn't get away from it. She couldn't get away from his eyes. Never, in the time she had known him, had she seen Chris look so terrified. He was helpless. And those people . . .

One of them grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her arms to her sides. Panic overtook her as the jerk tried to drag her away. She kicked her heel hard into his shin, sending him hopping backward with a happily uttered, "_Ouch. That stings._"

Spinning, she put herself between the commandos and her nephew. Hands out defensively, she growled, "_You stay away from him!_"

"_Now, Paige, that isn't any way to talk to an officer of the law_," Darryl's memory sang.

The annoying tone in his voice had been enough to distract her attention from the man behind Darryl, who had been inconspicuously removing a stun gun from the Velcro pocket in his vest. Only Chris calling out her name clued her in to anything going on but himself and Darryl. She sidestepped out of the commando's way barely in time, grabbing his arm and sending him stumbling away from the end of the bed into the closet door to land in a heap on the floor.

"_I can keep taking your guys out one by one like that all day if I have to, Darryl, and you know it. Leave us alone._"

"_I'm afraid he can't do that_," the voice of Inspector Sheridan bubbled from inside the doorframe.

That time the distraction had been enough for another one of Sheridan's goons to grab onto Paige and forcefully pull her away from between Chris and the police. She struggled in the grip (much, much stronger than the first guy's had been) as Sheridan and Darryl had advanced on the bed. Five guys on either side of Paige and her captor flanked them, forming a circle so she could in no way get to Chris. Still, she twisted and turned, trying to get a clear look at her nephew.

"_Stand still_," the guy in front of her commanded far too politely.

Chris must have heard the order because Paige heard him yell weakly, "_Leave her alone! Paige!_"

"_Chris!_"

Before she finished calling his name, not really knowing why except to let him know she was still there with him, he called out her name again, that time in a way she had never heard before. His feet on the bed tried futilely to scamper away from the hands about to start poking and prodding him. She certainly didn't need Phoebe's empathic powers to feel the absolute terror going through him. Every single person in the room would have felt it if they weren't so goddamned happy.

Chris's screams had been punched with agony. Her eyes, both in her real world and in her world of memory, shut tight against the sound. In her memory, the scream stopped abruptly. For a split second, her world seemed to stop. That sudden end to his screams could only have meant he was either unconscious or dead. Neither one of them had been on her list of things she wanted to see. Then she heard him panting in his pain, still — thankfully — breathing. Her relief was only temporary, though, as Sheridan brought up a bloody hand.

Ever so cheerfully, she reached that bloody hand backward toward one of her officers and wiggled her fingers. "_Oops! Forgot to use a glove. I can't very well go poking around in a wound to see if it's mortal without a glove. Silly me. After all, if it's my fault that he dies, that's going to be breaking the law, and I wouldn't want to do that. Then you'd have to kill me._"

Days later, Paige still heard the snap of latex around Sheridan's hand, accompanied by unbearable screams of pain coming once again from the bed. It had been at that moment when she lost any remaining shred of sanity. Adrenaline taking over, she and her memory turned on her heels, throwing both of the men holding her off and into the carpet. She charged Sheridan, grabbing the woman about the shoulders, and tried to pull her off Chris with every bit of energy she could manage over her churning stomach. The effort was wasted, though, as three more black-clad men snatched her away from the inspectors, removing her forcefully from the room even as Chris tried once again to tell them to get away from her.

Instinct led her to do the only thing she could in a crisis like that. "_LEO! LEO!_"

Over the shoulders of the two men who had taken to guarding the door against her re-entry, Paige heard Chris stop screaming. Darryl said something to Sheridan that she still wasn't quite able to make out, but it had sounded so happy that she couldn't have deciphered if that was good or bad news anyway. Instead, she did her best to take advantage of the break in sound to shout over the blockading shoulders, "_I'm still here, Chris! Can you hear me? I'm still here!_"

Weak and tired, she heard him call, "_So am I._"

Smart ass. She had thought it then, with a teary smile on her face, and again that same smile struck her. She remembered thinking he really was his father's son. He would get through this one like he had every other thing he'd been through in his life. Just like his dad had. Chris definitely got his fight from his dad. His mom, too, but that particular moment was very much like his dad. Still, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to do it anyway, so her memory called out to him, "_Good! You stay here! You hear me? Just hold on. I'll get your dad, but you have to hang on for me. LEO!_"

_Leo Leo Leo Leo LEO LEO LEO!_

In her dreams in the days since, Leo heard her call so much sooner. He arrived in plenty of time, with Gideon in tow. They'd saved Chris, fixed the unbalance between the worlds, and everything turned out okay. They knew without a doubt that Wyatt wouldn't turn evil. Piper's delivery had gone much smoother. Chris returned to the future, his beautiful future he'd worked so hard for, without any further complications.

But that was in her dreams.

In her memory as it had really happened, over and over she had screamed for the angel. When he'd finally orbed in, it had been only with enough time for him to plead with everything he had in him for his son to hold on. Paige again watched them from the door, not wanting to interrupt what turned out to be their last moment together. Even while Chris told his father not to give up, he closed his eyes for the last time and then just disappeared.

She liked her dream version a lot better.

When it was over, Paige made the conscious decision not to tell anyone about what had happened in the bedroom in the moments before Leo had arrived. The memory of it was hard enough for her. Sounds of Chris screaming wouldn't be extinguished any time soon, if ever. It was enough that they knew what Leo could tell them about what had happened. They needed to focus on the new baby. With any luck, things would be turned around enough in his future that he wouldn't have to come back again and he wouldn't have to go through that. He could die old and happy in his own bed with his family around him, many, many, many years in the future.

With any luck at all, that would be his future now. _Please, Dear God, let that be his future now._

A soft knock on the office door mercifully took her out of her pain. She sniffed back the wells of tears in her eyes, rubbed at them to make sure they were clear, and cleared her throat. "Yeah, Ray, I'm coming. Sorry. It just took me a second to remember where I put the damned thing."

The door opened to reveal a bright, smiley Ray, which almost made Paige cringe. She never wanted to see anyone that happy ever again. She was grateful when his voice was at a perfectly normal level of kindness. "I thought maybe you fell asleep in here or something. I guess this is probably the only place you're going to be getting any sleep with the new baby in the house, anyway."

The happy (but not too exuberantly happy) façade she'd worn for the last few days returned to its rightful place. "Actually, so far he's been sleeping through the night. We'll have at least a month of it before he gets too awful, I think. But no, I just got distracted for a minute." She picked up Piper's date book from the corner of the desk where she had left it and tossed the pages until she reached today's date. Scribbled on Post-Its stuck inside were all of the notes needed for the preparations for the night's entertainment. She plucked them out and handed them over. "That should be everything."

Ray looked the notes over quickly before nodding at her. "Looks like it."

"Sounds good." Paige grinned at him and waved him off. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Oh, by the way? Phoebe's here waiting for you."

Without even thinking about it, Paige's normal reaction popped out of her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. She said to take your time and that she'll wait out there. I think she's eyeing the new booze delivery guy, anyway."

Paige smirked. "What letter does his name start with?"

"'S' for 'Shane'. Why?"

"Nevermind." She chuckled, both at the man's confusion and her sister's ability to race through the dating alphabet. "Tell her I'll be right out."

With a normally toned "Will do", Ray disappeared behind the closed office door, giving Paige a few more seconds to silently rail at the ghost of Memory that wanted to do nothing more than haunt her tirelessly these days. Yeah, that was _so_ not the way she wanted to remember her nephew.

To the sky, she growled, "Fine. As always, I have to do everything without any help from You. Thanks for nothing. Really. You guys are the best. Thanks."

Unpleasant memory forced back down for what she hoped would be a good long few hours, she heard the chant start again in her head and continue long after she joined Phoebe back in the bar.

_New baby. Celebrate. Baby Chris. Must welcome Baby Chris. New Baby. Celebrate . . ._

**III**.

He needed to know.

There were a lot of things Leo Wyatt would _like_ to know. He'd like to know the ultimate reason he was made a Whitelighter after his human death sixty years ago. He'd like to know how it was the Elders had decided he was the best choice, of all the Whitelighters out there, to be the guide to the three most powerful witches the world had ever seen. He would like to know how it was he had managed to fall in love and, despite every single obstacle thrown at them, still love Piper through all of it. He wanted to know how it was Paige still had any hair on her head considering how often she chemically changed the color of it. He wanted to know how it was that Phoebe had managed to find every single Mr. Wrong in San Francisco and still have the gumption to tell other people how to live their romantic lives in an advice column. He wanted to know how it was that Piper could possibly have managed to do . . . Well, it was probably better not to think about those things he wanted to know. Even _thinking_ in the Halliwell home could get a guy in trouble some days.

Although, wanting to know how they were going to fit three (maybe hopefully someday again, four) adults and two little kids into a three bedroom house was probably a good thing. He would have to figure that one out and soon.

Still, he didn't _need _to know any of those things. They didn't have anywhere near the urgency this thing did. Nowhere close.

Leo sat on the floor of the attic, futzing with the loose floorboard. Up and down, up and down he pushed it. Squeak after shuddering squeak, he continued to play with the board as he let his thoughts wander. Nine days after his son had both died and been born into this world, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do with that.

Granted, he would have had to say goodbye to him anyway, but not in a cloud of pain and loss. Chris was supposed to get back to his own time, where he would live to be an old man, chasing his grandchildren around and loving a wife who would love him back like there was no one else in the world. They were supposed to get him back to a future where he could see he had been right, that Wyatt had been saved from becoming something evil and murderous. Instead, the man Chris had unknowingly come back to stop had stopped him dead. Chris was gone, and nothing Leo could do would bring his boy back. It was in that moment when Chris faded away from him that Leo knew, without a doubt, what they had always said was beyond heartbreakingly true: there was absolutely no pain greater for a parent than the death of a child.

When all of the anger and fear and wreck of the day had finally come to its awful conclusion, he joined her there to welcome the newly-born version of his son to the world his older self had tried so hard to save. There had been incredible joy at seeing his second son, but it had been different from the elation he'd felt when his first son had been born. After everything he had been through, Paige had put it best for him: _We didn't lose him after all._

That didn't make the loss any easier for Leo or, he imagined, the girls either. Whether they were going to know Chris in the future or not, he was still a part of their lives that was now gone and wouldn't ever be known to them ever again. Dead. Alive. Reconciling the two was proving to be something of a challenge. As much as he fought everything Chris did before knowing the anxiously fixated little Whitelighter was his son, he loved the kid. He really did. He would have done anything for him. That was what fathers did for their sons.

And yet, what was he doing at the moment? Playing with a loose floorboard and moping. No wonder Chris had thought him such a lousy father. Save Wyatt? Save Chris? At the moment, Leo couldn't even save himself.

He wanted to. He wanted to be able to save himself and his sons and his family, but lately, what he wanted in this world didn't really seem to matter to a whole lot of anybody. The Elders certainly weren't on his side. They were all Up There right now, debating and arguing what his future as an Elder should be. Needless to say, not everyone Up There understood why he'd killed Gideon. Not everyone Up There understood what it was like for him compared to every single other one of Them Up There. He was a father, an experience none of Them could possibly understand. Not a one of Them had bothered to ask what he wanted in all of that.

And Piper, well . . . He wanted more than anything to stay with her and their sons. She was slowly coming around, but it wasn't too long ago that what he wanted didn't matter much to her either. She had moved on. The sisters, of course, were going to side with Piper, mostly out of principle. As for Chris, he certainly hadn't been looking to make his father happy there for quite some time. It didn't matter that he'd wanted to fix things with his son. Chris didn't want anything to do with him. Some of that was fixable. Some of it had already been fixed. Still, none of it was coming out the way he wanted. What he wanted was —

"Leo?"

With a little help from the hand he stretched up to her, Piper sat down cross-legged at his side. When she was comfortable, she tugged on his arm until he relented and slung it around her shoulders. Together they sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as Piper slowly rocked them both gently side to side in a comforting rhythm.

It was nearly ten minutes later when she finally spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him, too."

Leo's voice wasn't anywhere near as gentle as hers. It was full of hatred and anger as he seethed, "I promised I would get him home. I promised him he would be okay. I'm his father. I'm supposed to make it okay."

"You didn't know Gideon was going to attack him."

"But I should have. As soon as we figured out it was Gideon all along and that he would be after Wyatt, I shouldn't have left Chris alone. I shouldn't have left the boys alone."

As angry as Piper still was (and always would be) at Gideon's betrayal, she couldn't let anyone blame themselves for something they didn't know. She was saving all of that blame for herself. Instead, Logic and Reason kicked in to tell Leo the thing she tried so hard to tell herself yet still didn't believe. "Tell me: in the entire time Chris was here, before you knew he was our son, did you ever think you couldn't leave him alone, that he was in any way incapable of taking care of himself?"

"Yes," said Leo a little too quickly to be honest.

"Liar."

"I did."

"No, you thought you couldn't leave _us_ alone with him," Piper argued with a sympathetic smile. "You left _him_ alone plenty of times. You were as suspicious of him as the rest of us were from time to time. You don't want to see it now, knowing what you know, but that's _now_. There's a difference."

Pointedly, Leo argued, "What about Bianca?"

"Special circumstance," Piper countered sharply, preferring to put the gaping hole that had been in her son's chest in the Memory Bin marked _Severe Amnesia_. If she lived long enough in the future to do it, she would be sending that girl as far away from her son as possible, no matter how much he loved her. Guaranteed. If she wasn't going to live that long, she'd make sure someone in the family could do it for her. But that wasn't the problem at hand, now, was it? "The point is he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. The outcome doesn't change the circumstance any. You had no reason to believe he couldn't take care of himself and Wyatt. As much as you want to deny it right now, eventually you're going to remember I'm right this time."

"Maybe."

They sat quietly for a moment, neither one of them knowing what to do or say anyway. It wasn't until the silence grew long enough to produce that shimmering wetness in Piper's eye that she quickly found a way to avoid letting any more tears get control of her. She'd promised herself no tears today. She gripped Leo's shoulder (maybe a little too tightly) and used it to catapult her still-sore body up again, digging his shoulder hard enough to pinch them both to a sense of reality.

"Where are you going?"

"The Book," she said, a conspiratorial smile on her features, although only she knew who she was conspiring with. She started lazily flipping pages at the podium, not really noticing which ones she was turning as she explained, "I don't know what made me think of it." She laughed lightly, seeing the situation so much differently than she had that day. She saw a lot of things differently now. "That first day we met him, right after the circus arrived and I sent you Up to see the Elders, he and I were up here alone for the first time. Well, Paige was here, but she was stone at the time, so it doesn't count. I found him looking in The Book like he'd been doing it all his life. Of course, we know now that he had, but when I saw him there, I chased him away from The Book as fast as I possibly could. He was so calm about it, though. He just made a joke about updating the Goblins entry. At least, I thought it was a joke, but something tells me he was serious about that one."

"He never mentioned anything about goblins to me."

Piper shrugged. "He only said we needed to do it, that it was going to 'get ugly', whatever that meant. Like I said, I don't know what made me think of it, but since the boys are sleeping anyway, I might as well see what we have in The Book and what I can find to add to it for later on. Considering it's one of the few things he said to warn us about future events, I figure it's advice worth taking."

"Sounds like a good idea to me, too."

Permission granted but not really required, Piper went about the business of searching The Book, passing by many demons she didn't recognize from when she'd last looked in it a few weeks ago. "Did you guys add a few things while I was gone and not tell me?"

Leo hauled himself up to his feet and joined Piper at the podium. As she flipped page after page, he too was stumped as she was. There had to be at least ten demons and a handful of other magical creatures with entries in The Book of Shadows that he knew fully well weren't there the last time he had looked. Then, as she continued to rifle through the pages, a clump of pages flipped forward all at once, unable to lay down flat any longer. A sheaf of paper, folded in quarters and firmly embedded in the spinal crease, was stiff enough to send the other pages over onto the other side. Piper examined them with a crinkled brow.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know."

The two sheets of paper unfolded easily enough, like they hadn't been folded into their shape for very long. Piper took in a sharp breath. She blinked a few times, looking between the papers and the new entries in The Book. "Chris," she whispered.

Leo looked like he was about to either smile or cry, possibly both. "Chris did this?"

"We'll see." Piper walked over to their much-abused sofa, The Book and papers in hand. Leo followed close behind. Together they sat, him being watchful of how she moved in case she would be in any pain. Once they were both comfortable, she examined the two samples of handwriting a little more before confirming, "This is definitely his writing."

"What does it say?"

"I'm a little afraid to look."

"Take your time," Leo said softly. He reached down and took her free hand, squeezing it hard in his. "When you're ready, I'll be here."

It took them both a moment to compose themselves. After a while, they silently started nodding at one another, shrugging and carrying on in a wordless conversation to make certain the other was prepared for whatever they were about to read. When they were both sure, Piper turned inside a bit toward Leo, holding up the paper between them so they could go through it together. After one more steeling blink of her eyes, Piper started to read.

_Dear Mom, Dad, Aunt Phoebe, and Aunt Paige,_

_If you're reading this right now, that means you finally decided to update the Goblins entry in The Book like I told you to almost two years ago. Right on time, too . . . It's what? Mid-December? Right? I took care of it for you, so you can relax this one time. I swear, there is a big, fat "I told you so" in here somewhere. — Oh, and watch out in the sunroom under the northwest window. There is a weak spot in the boards they'll try to come up through from the crawl space underneath. I didn't get around to fixing that one. Sorry. Now go take care of the goblins, then read this. I didn't go through all of this to get you three killed by goblins. Vanquish, then read. Got it?_

_But anyway, back to business . . . I figured you would see this if I left it here. I thought about the club, but too many people could accidentally find it. I didn't want you finding it before I left, either, so here it is._

_For the last few days, I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to say goodbye to you when I go back tomorrow. The thing is I don't think I can. So you're stuck with this instead. I hope it's enough._

_I know I wasn't the most honest — scratch that; I wasn't the most forthcoming — person when I first got here or during the twenty months I was here. I hope you really do understand now how it was for your own protection, and for Wyatt's, and maybe even a little bit for myself (ask Grandpa — he'll know what that means). I know you all got really tired of me saying I couldn't tell you things because it might mess up the future, but I think that you, Phoebe, can understand better than anyone what changing the smallest thing did. (I will never make another wish to a genie ever again.) Besides, if I had told you everything in the first place, I doubt you would have believed me. Things would have been worse for all of us, and I wouldn't have been able to fix the future I came back here to save. So I hope you'll forgive me for being so secretive, if you haven't yet. I hope you have. I hope you will._

_I don't know what kind of future I'm going back to for sure. Maybe the future can't be saved at all, but I have to believe we did it anyway. My brother is going to be good again, and our family will be together. I have to believe that. But if things are still the way they were, or worse even, I think I can at least find a little peace for myself when I get there. I don't mean that I'll stop trying to help Wyatt. Whatever he's done, he's still my brother, and I'll do whatever I have to. I just mean that I think I'll have better reasons to fight this time. This time I'll know exactly what I'm trying to save, not just some imagined life I always wanted. None of you are an idea anymore. I have a family to save this time, a real family._

_I've had to say goodbye too many times in my life already. You'd think this would get easier. Damn it._

_Paige, I don't know if you remember, but the day I came back, you were supposed to have died instead of just being turned to stone. In my lifetime, I never knew you. All I knew was what people told me or what I could find up in the attic. For me, you were only a story of someone Mom and Dad and Phoebe used to know. But now, in your time, I got to actually know the person who I had heard so many stories about. After Bianca came back for me, in the few minutes I was in the future, all of the memories of you that the altered timeline created caught up with me. Of course they did, since in that time, you had made it through that attack okay. I finally had a second set of memories with you in them, but my brief time back in the future still wasn't enough for me to lose the ones where you weren't there. I guess my point is that my world, no matter what time I'm in, is better now that I've been able to know you. (This is the part where I ask you for money, right?)_

_Phoebe, between you and me, I'm glad you're the one who figured it out first. It was actually kind of a relief. (You couldn't have figured it out a little sooner? If you guys kicked me out of the house one more time, I was going to lose it, I swear.) The thing of it is, and I really mean this, while it was a premonition or vision or whatever that brought you to that conclusion, it was your other powers that made it all okay. When I needed you most, you were there for me as my aunt, not as a witch (no matter how much grief I gave you for it). That night, sitting with you in the office, just talking, I needed it as much as you did. Thank you for giving that to me. Now let me give this to you. I know I won't be your Whitelighter anymore, but take this advice from me anyway: Don't worry so much about not having your powers right now. You'll find your way without them. You will. And I'll be just as proud of you for being Phoebe the Aunt as I am of you being Phoebe the Charmed One. Your active powers, they help you fight demons, and that's great. It's your birthright, and it's what your destiny was for the world. But your heart, that's the power you have that your family needs the most. Ask Mom. She knows what it means to be the middle child to hold everything together. You're filling her shoes just fine, Phoebe. I promise._

_Thank you both, by the way, for trying to help me with that thing. You know which one I mean._

_I'm only through two of you and my hand hurts. Ugh. Anyway . . ._

_Piper, Mom, I don't know where to start. I have missed you so much, and to be here with you, seeing you so young and different — It was nice to see you as an adult, not as a son. I understand so much now. I know that's what kids are supposed to say to their parents when they're grown up and away from home, but it really is true. You really have given me so much. And if all of this has given you any doubts of what an amazing mother you are, don't do that. (Yeah, I had a really nice talk with Grandpa.) I've watched you with Wyatt. You were so busy spending so much time trying to figure out what it was that turned him that I could just watch you without you even knowing I was watching. What I saw more than anything else was just how hard you work to make sure he is the happiest baby to ever have lived. I know neither of us will grow up afraid of anything because we have you for our mom. We're the luckiest kids in the world. We really are. I love you, Mom. (Oh, and it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to remember I've said this now when I'm about thirteen, okay? No matter what I say that day, I don't mean it.) I love you, Mom._

_Leo, Dad. Um. Yeah. So we've got issues no matter what time we're in, huh? I'm sorry I've given you such a hard time since I came back. Do with that what you will. As for the things I said to you that night in the cave and on the bridge, I guess we both have some changing of our own to do. You were right; things don't have to be the way they were. I'll try harder if you will. And know that for all myanger, you're still my dad and I love you. That didn't change. Loving you was never the problem. You're my dad. We're just going to have to figure the rest of it out as we go along. You'll figure it out. You always do. Did. Will. Whatever. The last three months since you found out about me have been the best three months we have ever had, Dad, EVER. I want more of them, if that's okay with you. Please? Figure it out. With any luck, my memories will all change when I get back, and all of the stuff we did to each other will be some little secret you never have to tell me about. We got a new start here. I don't want to lose that._

_Speaking of secrets you never tell me about, when I'm growing up, don't tell me about any of this. If for some reason we didn't succeed in saving Wyatt, I want to come back because I want to come back to save my brother, not because I was told all my life that I did. You know what I mean? I came back because my brother, my family needed me to because I was the only one left who could. I don't want to have that hanging over my head my whole life. I don't want that hanging over Wyatt's head either. I did what I came to do. I'm sure that if it had been the other way, Wyatt would have done the same for me. Neither one of us needs to know that._

_Okay, enough of that stuff . . ._

_A few requests before this is done . . ._

_Even though I'm heading into early retirement here, I'm still your Whitelighter for a few more hours. And, as your Whitelighter, I have one last bit of advice for you. Don't ever stop wanting to be normal. I know Grams and Dad and everyone around you, including me, have been drilling it into your heads that you aren't normal and you're never going to be normal. That's true, of course, but so is this: what you're thinking of as a normal life, a life without magic, comes with its own set of problems. If you take away the magic from our lives, you are normal. You're three sisters who care very much for each other, who are working at making a successful, loving family. With that comes bills and housework and marital arguments. Dating is just as hard without magic. People can annoy you at work without magic as easily as they can with it in your lives. This family is normal. We make it through everything the same way every family does — with each other. That's normal. You don't need magic for that. Magic is just a bonus. And believe me, in the future that I came from, there are plenty of people who would give their lives for our normal._

_So I was thinking, when I get back, the first thing I want to see when I come through the portal is my family. I don't know exactly how all of that is going to work, but I do know I want to know you are all okay. It might take awhile for my memories to catch up with me, but I don't think I can wait that long. I know it's kind of early for any of you to be planning a dinner twenty-three years in the future when half the time you can't even plan your mornings once you get up, but I thought maybe we could plan on you being here in the attic waiting for me? We'll have plenty catching up to do. I'll understand if you can't, and I'll find you all as quickly as I can once I know for sure it's safe, but it would just . . . you know . . . It's just an idea. You've got twenty-three years to think about it._

_Anyway, Paige, you and Gideon just called me to come work on the spell some more, so I should probably get going. I don't know what else to tell you anyway. Be safe, please? I want my family back when I get home, if that isn't too much to ask. I love you all so much, more than you can possibly imagine. Take care of each other, take care of us, and I'll see you in a little over twenty years._

_Love, Chris_

A few readings, a few laughs, and a few gulps later, the letter had done the thing Piper thought only seeing the real, live Chris could do. Warmth returned to her heart. It wasn't the same as having him really be okay, but at least she knew that when he was ready to leave, he'd been happy. After everything his family had put him through, both present and future, her little boy finally found some peace with all of it and was happy.

Leo, however, turned away from the letter after the first read with a much different interpretation of his son's words. The cold anger he'd harbored since holding his dying son in his arms grew even colder, if that was possible. His hatred for the man who took his son from him knew no bounds. All of that hope Chris had had, all of the work he'd done to make the future better was quite possibly destroyed. It was entirely possible that all of the hope poured into that letter had been for nothing. If anything, the letter only made him sadder.

While Piper went on to start a fifth reading, Leo solemnly broke into her thoughts, his voice a choked whisper. "I want to go, Piper. I _need_ to go."

Not liking even the insinuation — that had better be what that was — that her husband, the father of her children, was suggesting he should be anywhere but _with_ his sons right now, Piper glowered unhappily at Leo. He was not leaving. No way. Her gaze was not in the least bit friendly as she put the letter down in her lap and asked, "Go _where_?"

"I need to know."

"Need to know _what _exactly, and where do you think you have to do this? Because if it's anywhere other than right here in this house with your sons, you can forget it."

Leo pointed at the chalk outline on the wall with a tinge of uncertainty but all the determination in the world of a father set on a mission. "I need to know we really did save Wyatt. I need to know what future we were sending Chris to."

"Ooh, no. No. Nuh-uh," Piper began to argue, the sharp laughter in her voice not the sound of anything happy. "You are not going anywhere. No way."

"I need to."

"And we," Piper gestured wildly in a circle with her finger, indicating everywhere in the house, "your _family _need you here. I need you here. I can't do this without you."

"I have to."

"_No_, you really don't."

For the first time since Piper had come upstairs, Leo managed to look her hard in the eyes. He pleaded with her, willing her to feel his need, his frustration, to feel anything he was feeling at the moment. "Yes, I do. I have to know that I would have been taking him someplace safe. I need to know that Wyatt is . . . that he — that Chris really did save his brother . . . I need to know for sure that Wyatt was not and in no way will be turned to Evil. For both their sakes, I don't want there to be any doubt."

"I think that if there was anything wrong, Chris would have known."

"I need to know for _certain_, Piper. I do. I need to know that Chris didn't die in vain for something that he couldn't fix. I need to know he didn't go through everything we put him through only to . . . to . . . You weren't here. You didn't see him. He tried so hard to be brave, but he was scared. I know it. I could feel it. Our son deserved better than that."

Softening, Piper let go of the letter so she could take both of Leo's hands in hers. She held them tightly, somehow hoping to send the same hope she had from the letter into him. She tried to smile at him, though it was a little bit harder than she had expected it to be. "Yes, he did. He does. Leo, Chris is still here. Maybe he isn't in the form that we — he isn't the Chris we need to be able to fix things for right now, but he's still here. He's small and he's powerless — I _think_ — and he needs his father."

"And I promise I'll be here for him, every single step of the way. I won't miss anything." He dropped her hands, trying to make his point. "And part of being there for him is making sure we would have sent his adult self to a positive, beautiful future."

"Leo."

"What if I get there and Wyatt is still ruling all Evil? What then? How will we know what it is that turns him? If Gideon had enough time to turn him, we need to know now so we can fix it before it festers in him. Or what if it was something altogether different that turned him? Hmm? What if it was a hundred little things instead of only one person like Gideon? We have to _know_. I can't spend the next twenty years wondering if my sons are okay or if one of them is going to be terrorizing the entire magical world for his own happiness."

"That won't happen this time," she said, a bit more harshly than she wanted it to sound. "We're going to know to watch for things. We have a head start on it this time around."

Leo shook his head, still set in his mind. "I promised Chris I would make it better this time. You saw how much he hated me before we talked. I must have missed a thousand things for him. He probably tried to tell me what was wrong with Wyatt. He probably tried to tell me a lot of things, and I didn't hear them. It has to be different this time."

"It will be."

"I need to be sure."

"Need to be sure of what?" came Phoebe's concerned voice from the doorway to the attic. She took one look at Piper and Leo on the couch, both with tears in their eyes and The Book in between their laps and knew immediately (without powers) that something was wrong. She didn't sound in the least bit hopeful when she exasperatedly threw her arms up in the air and asked, "Oh, good grief, who's trying to kill us now?"

Wiping hot tears out of her eyes, Piper turned her attention away from Leo and directed at her sister a straight, tense smile that said she was anything but happy about being interrupted. "Someone's trying to kill us?"

"I don't think so," said Phoebe, confused. She looked at Paige at her side, her brow knotted in skepticism. "Is someone trying to kill us?"

"You mean this week?" Paige shrugged cheerfully as she twisted herself around Phoebe through the doorway to go sit comfortably on the floor in front of Piper and Leo. He took the opportunity to look away, his glare boring a hole into the sole of his shoe. Knowing that look of Leo's all too well, Paige poured her attention onto Piper, who only stared back. Obviously, this was going to be one of those conversations where Paige and Phoebe did all of the talking. Settling in for the long haul, she rocked herself back onto her hands and crossed her ankles. "What's going on?"

"Read for yourself," Piper said and handed the heart-felt chicken scratch over.

While Paige started reading, Phoebe looked them all up and down, not even realizing she was still trying to sense feelings from them without the aid of her powers. A little voice in her head teased, _You know you aren't going to get them back until you stop trying to use them. SO STOP TRYING TO USE THEM!_ Shaking her little voice out of her head, she asked, "What is it?"

"A letter from Chris," Piper explained, both hopeful and sad. "He left it in The Book the day before he was supposed to leave."

A sharply chuckled '_Heh_' from Paige was followed by a quick look up at Piper. "What's this about goblins?"

"Your nephew is a smart-ass is what that is," said Piper, crossing her arms over her chest. "But don't worry about it, apparently not until Mid-December. Nevermind. Just keep reading."

"Goblins?" asked Phoebe.

"You'll see when you read it," Piper told her.

Another snort of laughter struck Paige. When everyone looked at her to figure out what she was laughing at, she rolled her eyes. "You know, for someone so into dramatic announcements, he sure has a sense of understatement in here. He wasn't the 'most _forthcoming_'? Did he even experience the same ten months of total secrecy we did?"

"Read," Piper ordered. She could tell Phoebe was starting to get grabby and wanted to rip the letter right out of Paige's hands. It wouldn't be long before she wouldn't get to finish it if she didn't hurry up.

During the next few tears, chuckles, and sighs, the others sat quietly, giving Paige her time alone with the letter as Leo and Piper had had. When she was done, the cheerful, staccato chant was gone from her head, an entire letter's worth of happier thoughts there in her mind for a while to keep her going. Paige reached a hand up to put it on her sister's knee. "You raised me a pretty sweet nephew." She handed the letter over to an anxious Phoebe and put that hand on Leo's knee. "You both did."

"We all did." Piper grinned back, covering Paige's hand with her own. She reached her other hand to put it on top of Leo's and Paige's where they sat together and smiled. Leo, however, squeezed their hands and stood up, making the move away from the sisters. Paige and Piper glanced confusedly at one another. "Leo?"

Leo didn't say anything. Instead, he let the sisters look over the letter in their own time. He quietly closed his eyes against the sunshine coming in through the window, listening to them and their reactions. Just as Paige had before her, Phoebe laughed a few times, sniffed once or twice, and snorted her agreement with Paige about her nephew's word choice. When she was done, he heard her say with a big smile, teary though it was, "Yeah, what she said."

"He did turn out to be a pretty good kid, didn't he?"

"At least we know one of them did."

Phoebe glanced at Piper before looking back at the hopeless-sounding Leo. "What do you mean?"

Before Leo had the chance to explain, Piper jumped in with a sniped, "Leo seems to think that he needs to leave us again."

Both Paige and Phoebe gaped at their brother-in-law. "WHAT?"

Leo turned on Piper, none too happy with her characterization of his intentions. "That's not what I'm saying, and you know it."

"You don't know what could happen there," Piper countered. She stood up, stomped over to the window, and left her sisters behind, closing Leo off from any escape but Up. "What if you don't make it back? We can't take that chance right now. Your sons need you here at home. I need you here, too. We all do. You aren't the only one this happened to. And _you don't know what could happen._"

"That's the point, isn't it?"

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Paige, flanking Piper on one side while Phoebe took the other. "What could happen where?"

Piper's hands flew up in frustration, blowing up one of Grams's old racks of potion bottles on the shelf inches to the side of Leo's head. "Leo seems to think he needs to take a little pleasure portal to The Future instead of staying here with his kids the way they are now."

"Piper," Leo started at the same time as Paige.

Sisterhood overruled former husbandhood, so Leo watched Paige twitch her shoulders the way she always did when she was either caught having done something she shouldn't or when she was going to have to disagree with a sister when she didn't want to. Her face scrunched in apologetic argument. "Maybe, Piper — just maybe — that might not be such a bad idea."

"_What?_"

"Wait a second." Paige reached forward and grabbed Piper's outstretched wrists and put them together, calming her. She then looked at Leo, guessing what it was he was trying to say. "You just want to go see if the future is okay, right?"

"Yeah."

Seeing where they were all heading, Phoebe added, "You want to know that Chris and Wyatt are both safe?"

"Yes. That's all I wanted to do." Leo took over the explanation again, this time trying to be a little more steeled in the conversation than he had been before. "I'll be gone for an hour, tops. I only need to see if the boys are safe. That's all. I can't wait for twenty-odd years to find out if things changed for them or not. Is that really such a bad idea? Don't you want to know, Piper? Don't you want to be sure?"

"Of course I want to know," she said. "You act as if I'm not concerned with the futures of my sons at all."

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," Leo argued. "All I'm saying is that, for _both_ of the boys, we need to know that the time with Gideon didn't start to turn him already."

"And _I'm_ saying there has to be a better way to find out than sending you to a future where we don't know what's going to happen. Too many things could go wrong. Is it — "

Before she could finish, Phoebe's cell phone rang, interrupting all of them. She looked embarrassed as she fumbled for it in her pocket, flipping the top of it up with a snap of annoyance at the caller. "Phoebe Halliwell."

While they waited for whoever was on the other end of her conversation to identify themselves, Piper and Leo glared at one another in anger and grief. Only Paige separated them, and from the look in her sister's eyes, she was wondering if that was the safest place in the room for her to be. All of them had their attention pulled back to Phoebe, though, as she gasped.

"Oh, god, Darryl. I'm so sorry. We got involved in a family thing just now when I came to get Piper. We'll be right there, though, okay? Just give us a few minutes?" Phoebe listened to whatever Darryl's response was and then said a quick goodbye before snapping the phone shut again. She looked at the tiny object for a moment then turned to Piper with a half-smile. "I'm sorry. I got a little — Chris's letter kind of threw me off. Darryl called me at work a little while ago. It sounded kind of important."

Paige glared at her sister, even though there was no real way that Phoebe could have known why it was that Paige was looking at her that way. "Wait a minute. _He's_ the reason you pulled me away from the club? You didn't tell me that. If I had known he was the emergency, I would have just stayed there."

"It sounds important," said Phoebe.

"Not important enough for me to leave the club," Paige argued. "I promised Piper I'd help them set up for the band tonight, and do all the schmoozing and — "

Her own anger temporarily shelved at the sharpness of Paige's voice, Piper soothed, "I'm sure they can handle it there. Ray is perfectly capable. So is Rex. That's why I hired them. I appreciate the help, but if you really want to help out, there are plenty of things I could put you to work doing around here, none of which has to be done this very minute. It's really okay."

"No, it's not," snipped Paige without meaning to. That didn't stop her, however, from ranting a little more, letting something of her anger slip out for the first time since the last time she had seen Darryl. "What? He kicks us out of his life and throws your son in jail, but as soon as he calls, all is forgiven?"

"I don't think that's what's going on here," Phoebe said. "He sounded really upset when he called."

"I don't care how upset he sounded," Paige spit out. "I'm not going anywhere near him."

Phoebe tried again to get through. "Paige, it's _Darryl_. What's going on?"

Nearing a place in her head that wasn't too far from hysterics, Paige could hear the chant starting up again, mingling in with memories of screams Chris had been unable to contain while dying on his parents' bed. All of it clouded around her brain, shouting at her in a muddled mess until a clear vision finally came of Darryl, standing over Chris's body and smiling without a real care in the world. Darryl in the hallway, telling Leo he was sorry when she knew damned good and well that there wasn't a single cell in his body that was sorry. Darryl too busy being in that blissful state every other person around them had been in. She wasn't ever going to be able to look at him again. That sick smile would always be on his face, no matter what she did to see him differently. She couldn't have any forgiveness for that, certainly not right now, not after reading Chris's letter and finding out all of those things he'd wanted to say to them. No way.

_New Baby. Baby Christopher. Have to celebrate. Welcome the baby._

Shaking her head, Paige looked hard at her sisters and then gave a pleading glance toward Leo, hoping he would know her thoughts. Only he would have even a hint of understanding of what she was feeling at the moment. "Leo, I can't."

"It's okay." Softly, Leo asked, "The boys are asleep?"

"Yeah, they're both in the nursery," Piper said slowly, not understanding the sudden change of topic.

Leo turned to a quite obviously grateful Paige. He smiled and nodded, a silent pact between them to understand each other during all of this. "You want to help out with something? Go sit with Wyatt and Christopher. I'm sure they'll be awake soon."

Her slightly overdone cheerfulness back in her demeanor, Paige gripped Leo's hand. "I was looking forward to some alone time with my nephews anyway. We need some 'Auntie Paige' time." With that, she turned away from the group and headed out of the attic without another word. Her incredible sigh of relief trailed unheard behind her.

Phoebe chastised Leo, "Why did you do that?"

"You weren't here." He felt a lump of rocky something in the back of his throat, rising with his anger again. This was one of those times he would defend Paige until she gave him a reason not to. He was sick thinking about what could possibly have happened when she was alone with Chris to put that much hate in her eyes. Darryl's stupidly unfeeling '_I'm sorry, Leo_' was enough to tell him it hadn't been good. He bit back the sickness, though, and hoped he could say enough to make the sisters understand why he let her go. "All I know is, there was at least a fifteen minute window in there where it was just the two of them against Darryl, Inspector Sheridan, and an entire SWAT team. I don't know what happened, and quite frankly, I don't want to, not judging from Paige's behavior. Personally, I don't want to see Darryl either, at least not for a very long time. So cut her some slack. Do this without her. You won't change her mind anyway. Besides, aren't you the ones who were just trying to tell me I'm not the only one Chris's death happened to?"

Piper shuddered at the words '_Chris's death_' as if she hadn't heard the words yet. The comforting words of her son's letter now a shattered illusion, she nodded her head a few times, coming to a jarring conclusion. She bit her tongue, the decision made. "He's right. C'mon."

"Are you sure?" asked Phoebe.

"Yeah. Let's just get this over with." Piper reached to take her Phoebe's hand in hers and squeezed hard. She tugged on a little bit so that they could get on the road, but before they made it even two steps, she stopped hard and turned around. She smiled at Leo and tried really hard to recall '_The Tools_' of communication they had been trying so hard to work on before any of the insanity had started to happen almost two years ago. "Leo," she started, much gentler than she had been talking to him since he had sprung his idea on her. "I do understand what you want and why. I do. And maybe you can convince me it's a good idea. I don't know yet. Can you wait a little while? Give me a few days to think about it. Please? If you're going to go, I want it to be completely safe for you to do it. Okay?"

Leo crossed the distance between them and gently kissed her on her forehead. His voice was back to its normal, eerily serene self that it had been of late when he ordered, "Go see Darryl."

Phoebe led them out the door toward a meeting that they were more than impolitely late for. "Good enough. See you in a while."

Piper's voice floated down the hall as they reached the top of the stairs, "Help Paige with the boys while we're gone. Bottles are in the fridge."

**IV.**

Several plots and mausoleums in from the dirt road that weaved through the cemetery, Darryl Morris waited for them, hands neatly folded in front of him as if bowing his head in a silent prayer. He'd done a lot of that lately, which wasn't all that reassuring to him. The idea that he would turn to the god he had long ago turned away from instead of to people who he knew both actually existed and loved him was one of the many cosmic contradictions messing with his head these days. Somehow, now in this newly relocated, long-absent calm in his chest, he realized that, whichever of the options he chose, they both would lead him here.

This was, after all, where it all began. This was where it should end.

When the girls arrived, he simply let them come, didn't turn to acknowledge them, or give any sign he knew they were there at all. In turn, the sisters stood back far enough to give him room to prepare whatever it was he had to say. He had called this meeting. He'd let them know when it started.

It took a few long, deep breaths before he started, but when he did, Darryl certainly didn't pull any punches. His voice was calculated, but low and husky, as if he'd been fighting the urge to cry for so long that it was actually painful not to. "I love you girls. We've been through a lot together. You're the closest things to sisters that I have."

"We love you, too," said Phoebe, who was quickly nudged in the side by Piper for interrupting. Quickly, she urged, "Sorry. Go on."

Darryl chuckled a little, knowing what had happened behind his back without having to see it. He'd seen it a thousand times before. "God, I love you." As quickly as his face lit up, it clouded over into something much colder. "But as much as I love you, I hate you. I hate what this has done to me, what it's done to all of us."

When the girls didn't say anything, he turned around for the first time to face them, revealing swollen eyes and complete heartbreak. It also revealed the stone he had been standing in front of, and for the first time, the girls realized exactly where they were standing. Piper grabbed for Phoebe's hand when she saw it, knowing she was probably feeling the same pain that she was. They hadn't been _there_ in a long time.

"Where's Paige?"

Phoebe's face screwed up in apology, but she never got to explain because Darryl cut her off.

"It's okay. If I were her, I wouldn't want to see me either."

Piper asked, "Why? Darryl, what's going on?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "I can't fix it now anyway. There are a lot of things I can't fix."

"Darryl?"

Kneeling next to the headstone he guarded so reverently, his fingers traced the letters across the stone as if the person buried underneath it could still feel his presence that way. Bitterness crept into his voice as he told them, "I love all three of you so much, but I can't end up here. If I stay, if I let you stay a part of my life, of my family's lives, this is exactly where I'm going to end up. I loved Andy. He was my partner and my best friend for a long, long time, but if this is where all of this is going to end, I don't want to be like him."

The reality of how close they had come to losing Darryl not too long ago hit both Phoebe and Piper hard. They knew he'd been scared. Without a doubt, he'd been scared enough to decide he couldn't cover for them any longer. They just didn't know that it had hit him _this_ hard. As an unspoken rule, they never talked about Andy. Today, it seemed, it was going to be all about Andy. Still they kept their silence, letting Darryl finally have the say he had apparently been struggling with now for over a month. They could try to help him out of it afterward.

"Andy was one of the best people I have ever known. He loved you two, and he loved your sister. He loved Prue more than I think any of us realized. I have to wonder, though, what he would think about all of this if he'd lived. Would he still protect you after what I went through last month? Would he have found a way to get over it? Would he continue to risk everything if it were him? I've been thinking this over and over and over. It's keeping me awake at night. I'd give anything right now to know what he would tell me about this. Then, two nights ago, it came to me. The only thing that keeps coming back in my head now is that it really doesn't matter what Andy would do. I'm the one who lived, and he's the one under our feet."

Interrupting again, but not really caring if it meant she got pinched in the side or not, Phoebe said quietly, "I think, if Andy was here, all he'd tell you is that he wants you to be happy. And you need to do what you have to do to make yourself and your family happy, Darryl. That's all we want for you, too, you know. We just want you to be happy."

"We never wanted any of this to happen to you," added Piper. "You have to know that."

"I know you didn't." Morris nodded and closed his eyes, his heart clenching around the words. He sighed and opened them again, his dark eyes still colder than they had ever been toward the girls before. "But the thing is, these things keep happening. They keep happening to you because of who you are. Don't get me wrong; I'm proud of everything you've done. I only wish I could tell the world about all of the things you do for it, but even with all of the good you've done, the evil still comes back. It isn't your fault. It's just the way it is." He stood up again and turned to face them. He had been struggling to make eye contact the entire time, but he knew that he needed to look them in the eye to say this. They had earned that much from him. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I know I didn't handle things the way I should have. You earned a better treatment than what I've been giving you lately."

Soothingly, Piper reached a hand over to him, clasping his fingers in hers. She swung his hand back and forth a little with reassurance. "We understood. We did. We do. And if things had been a little less hectic, we probably could have at least sat down to talk about it."

"We understand why you don't want to be caught in the middle anymore," Phoebe chimed in. "It's risky for you, especially with Sheridan on your back. We just wish it could have been talked about instead of thrown at us with cops coming in through our back door to arrest Chris."

"I know that. Trust me; if I didn't, Sheila belts it into my head every night at dinner anyway."

"You married a good woman," Piper joked.

"Yes, I did."

Before his expression could darken again, Phoebe jumped the gun a little bit and said what he hadn't said yet. "And you have to take care of her and Darryl, Jr. That's why you aren't going to protect us anymore."

"If that's what you're trying to say, you don't have to," said Piper. "We know that."

Morris licked his lips, preparing to make the last big part of the speech he'd rehearsed in his head over and over for the last two days. It was a little bit easier, knowing they already knew, sort of, what he wanted to say in the first place. "I told you, I love you. I _would_ go on protecting you forever if I could, but sooner or later, my luck will run out. This last time was too close, and the time before that and the time before that. What I've come to realize in the last month is that it's going to _keep_ happening. You're always going to have demons coming after you, and I'm always going to want to save you. That's what I believe Andy would have done, and I know it's what I want. You girls are family. I don't want to see you hurt or worse. But if I stick around, that's what I have to look forward to. When Prue died, I lost a sister, too. I wish I could make it easier for all of you, but at the same time, I've had to make things better for you for a long time — first Andy, then Prue, Cole, and now Chris. I can't watch it happen again. How many more people have to die before I can stop protecting you? It's not that I don't love you enough to do it, but I'm only capable of my own heart breaking so many times."

"It really is okay," Piper said, once again shaking his hand in comfort.

Phoebe nodded. "We'll figure something else out. We don't really know what yet, but we will figure it out. We always do. So don't worry about it anymore, okay?"

Piper wrapped her arm inside the crook of Phoebe's so that the three of them were briefly linked. "We're going to be just fine. We promise."

"I just wish — " Morris started, only to be cut off.

"You know what?" asked Phoebe, stretching a smile over her face. "Stop apologizing. You've apologized enough."

Relief washed over Darryl's entire body. His hand, which had been shaking in Piper's, was finally able to grip hers back. It was as if he was suddenly talking to his friends again, not some strangers. Relief calmed him enough to make the big announcement he planned, knowing now that he was doing the right thing for everyone involved. "Then you won't be mad at me when I tell you I've decided that the best thing I can do is take my family and leave?"

"Leave?" both girls asked.

"Next week. I've accepted a job out of state. If I stay here, things will either go back to the way they have been in the last month, or they'll go back to the way they were before. Either way, there will be files coming across my desk and people asking questions again. It's time I gave all of us a clean slate. Like I've been trying to say, the best way I can protect all of us is to break free. Clean break."

Both Piper and Phoebe looked stunned, their mouths half open. It was Phoebe who came to her senses first, pursing her lips with regret. Her eyes darted to the ground for a moment before she let go of her Piper's arm and crossed the short distance between herself and her surrogate big brother. She got up on her tiptoes to wrap both arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. When she was back down on her feet again, she grinned at him, tears in her eyes. "Then I wish you all the best of luck, and I hope you will at least call us now and then. You're still family, no matter how far away you are."

Piper took her turn next, tears brightening her eyes as well. "We're really going to miss you."

When Piper had set her feet back down, he grasped both of her hands in his and squeezed them tightly. "I'm so sorry about Chris — uh, grownup Chris — but I'm glad the two of you made it through the surgery all right."

"Thanks," Piper said, not knowing what else to say to that.

"I only wish I had understood what was going on that day. I know there is some magical excuse for what was going on I'm doomed to never understand. I couldn't feel anything at the time. I wish I could take it back. I never wanted him to die like that."

"We know," Phoebe said because her sister was unable to.

Quickly changing the subject to something else because she couldn't talk about her son any longer, Piper let go of Darryl's hands and gestured outwardly. "You know, this isn't right. Let's at least say goodbye properly, not here in the cemetery. We can do it at a neutral location. The club? Some other restaurant? That way whole family can say goodbye properly and without me feeling guilty that we're standing on top of Andy."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Phoebe began.

Together, the three of them went on to make plans for a dinner the following week while the sun started dipping low enough in the sky to be in all of their eyes, hiding their real thoughts from one another in the bright glow.

**V.**

Back at the house, Paige, too, noticed the sun coming in softer into the bedroom, casting a ray of yellow on everything it touched. A light knock on the door rousted her from other thoughts from where she was watching her two favorite nephews sleeping peacefully on the bed with her. She started, immediately checking to see that the knock didn't wake the boys before she creeped off the bed to go to the door. Behind it, she wasn't all that surprised to see Leo.

"How are they?"

"Still sleeping," she said in a whisper. "Wyatt orbed Buster in from the nursery about twenty minutes ago, but otherwise, they've just been lying here. It's uneventful."

"But nice," Leo finished her thought for her.

"Yeah." Paige glanced back at the two boys and the circle of pillows that surrounded them to keep Wyatt from rolling over. Seeing they were both all right, that familiar tug pulled at the corner of her mouth as she formed her thoughts then looked up at Leo. "Thanks for backing me up up there."

"You're welcome."

"Were they really mad at me?"

Leo shrugged, not really caring if the sisters were mad at her or him at the moment. "If they are, they'll get over it. You have every right to not want to see him." Softening, he added in his usual Whitelighter/Elder-ish way, "But don't let it go for too long. It might help you deal with whatever it is you're dealing with if you talk to them."

Paige turned away from the doorway to gaze back at her nephews. In her mind, the big version of Chris was still lying there on the bed, even though his little self was lying there next to their brother. She had hoped that being in this bedroom alone would maybe take some of the memory away for her, that maybe she could replace the images of her adult nephew dying with pictures of her infant nephew in a state of warmth and peace. So far, it wasn't working, but there was no way she was going to let her brother-in-law know that. Chris's father didn't need to know that. Putting that excited baby face back on, she said, "I'm not dealing with anything. There's a new baby in the house. Baby Christopher is my focus. He takes a back seat to everything else."

"Okay," Leo agreed in that voice that said he really didn't believe her. Instead of pushing, he changed the subject, which was why he had come downstairs in the first place. "Listen, I was thinking about taking a walk."

"Since when do you just take random walks?"

"Well, not a walk, exactly. There's this place I like to go to think. I just need some time to think."

Paige nodded and reached over to turn Leo around by the shoulders, shoving him out of the doorway. "Understood. Go. Enjoy. We'll be fine here."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Go. Think. Be brilliant." She waved him off. Leo made to orb out of the hallway, but came right back when Paige called his name for him to return. "Leo? Give her time. She'll see your side of things. I know she will."

"Thanks," he said and this time fully orbed out of the hallway.

What Leo hadn't told Paige was that he had no intention of waiting for the mother of his sons to come around to his way of thinking. He couldn't sit around and debate things over and over until Piper finally understood how he wanted to do this for the welfare of his entire family. He certainly couldn't wait for the other Elders to make a decision about his future that could quite possibly keep him from being able to go through with his plan in the first place. No, he needed to do it now, while the girls were out of the house and out of the way. Besides, if all went well, they wouldn't even have to know he had gone at all. The argument would be done, and he would have the peace of mind he needed. That wasn't all that much to ask, now, was it?

So instead of orbing to the top of San Francisco's Golden Gate bridge like he normally would, he orbed himself right back up to the attic. Careful not to make any sounds that could be heard downstairs, he tiptoed across the floor, mindful of the squeaky floorboard hidden by the carpet.

He stood in front of the chalk outline triquetra on the wall, staring at it in deep concentration. It couldn't hurt to be focused on exactly where he wanted to go. He plunged his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans, feeling the bottles hidden in them all afternoon. The one on the left would take him there; the one on the right would bring him back. All he had to do was use them.

He fingered the bottle in his left pocket, bringing it out into the open. He held it up to eye level, looking through it in the light. It was amazing how so small a vial of so many powerful magical elements could end up doing so much. It was that vial that held the power to give him peace of mind. It was that vial that probably would also make life with his former wife a little more than miserable when he used its partner later on. Still, it was for the greater good, and she would forgive him eventually. What could possibly be bad about something so small?

"I'm sorry, Piper," he whispered into the air, even though he knew she would hear. Then he drew his fist back and threw the bottle into the wall, smashing it. Potion spilled all over the drawing, causing it to glow a bright whitish blue. Leo took one last deep breath and stepped forward toward the opening portal.

As his first leg went through, he smiled to himself. "For you, Chris. I wish you were coming with me."

(End Part One)


	2. Conversations With Dead People

**Chapter Two  
Conversations With Dead People**

**I.**

While Leo pulled his second leg through the portal, he took advantage and utilized the power he had as an Elder to turn himself invisible. _Better use it while you can, buddy_, the little voice in the back of his head told him. He had come to completely disregard that voice since finding out Chris was his son. That voice had spent so much time making him believe Chris was an enemy that it had caused him to miss out on over a year's worth of time to make things up to his boy. That voice had led him far enough astray that it would be a long, long time before he trusted it again. Still, this time it was right. The other Elders hadn't decided his fate as of yet, but if things went the way he thought they would, he wouldn't be orbing for much longer, let alone any of the other tricks he had picked up since becoming an angel. Hearing that thought run through his head, the little voice snickered in the background. _See? Sometimes I know what I'm talking about_.

The small internal battle kept Leo from noticing he was feeling slightly headsick as time bent to the will of the potioned portal. The sudden twisting of pain behind his eyes was gone as soon as it started, though, leaving Leo exactly Where (and hopefully _When_) he wanted to be.

The attic wall was now behind him instead of in front as it had been only seconds before. The portal triquetra quickly settled back into a chalk outline, the blue light extinguished. The sudden lack of light in it served only to tick off that damned voice in the back of his head again, which sounded an awful lot like a demonic Jiminy Crickett.

_Man, your wife is gonna kill you, and if she doesn't, her sisters will. You're lucky you're already dead._

Ignoring the voice once again, Leo reminded himself to focus. He was in enough trouble with his family already. No, he needed to just take a look around, find out if everything was all right with his family, and go back before anyone back home would know he'd been gone. How he was going to know, he wasn't entirely certain, but there had to be hints around the house somewhere.

So far, things in the attic appeared to be in order. The furniture of the future attic had been replaced with a few sofas and chairs that he didn't recognize. Considering all of the furniture abuse he had witnessed in his years in the Halliwell household, he wasn't all that surprised. He could only have continued to mend frequently blown up cushions for so long. The new stuff actually looked rather comfortable. If it got anywhere near the use that it did in his time, it would have to be. The rugs, on the other hand, weren't looking so good. Scorched holes dotted the entire floor, and the fringe along the edges of the rugs were black twisted coils of burnt fibers. Shelving units, tables, and wooden chairs all appeared to have been built and rebuilt many times over, but they were still intact.

Leo wandered over to the podium where The Book of Shadows still rested. The Book was even thicker than in his time, which was a stark reminder that the sisters' battle was still far from over. It was open to a spell that Leo didn't recognize, but then, that wouldn't take much. Unlike his charges, it wasn't his duty to memorize every single spell in The Book. Still, he didn't like the sound of this one. Everything about it screamed '_Time Travel_', and it was one he would rather not think would be used by anyone in the family any time soon. In fact, just to be sure that it couldn't be, Leo ripped the page out of The Book and stuffed it as deep down into his back pocket as it would go.

Feeling somewhat relieved, he flipped the pages absently, looking for the pages that he and Piper had talked about just a little while ago. There were so many demons in The Book that he didn't recognize at all as he moved closer toward the front. Then, anxiously, he closed The Book, knowing the answer to at least one of his questions was an easy enough get.

The answer was not the one he wanted at all.

The points of the triquetra were separated from the circle and one another, the triquetra broken. The symbol of the Charmed Ones was broken. That meant that the Power of Three was broken, too.

As far as Leo was concerned, the likelihood that the girls had had an argument so destructive that their birthright had been stripped from them was This Side of Crazy. Even when they almost lost Phoebe to Evil with her marriage to Cole when he was the Source, the Power of Three had still hung on through it. The sisters loved each other far too much to lose each other that way. The only explanation remaining then was that they were lost in another, irreparable way. One, if not all, of the sisters in this future point in time were dead.

Realization sucked the air out of his lungs, and when he tried to find more he only found that there wasn't any air anywhere to be breathed. One of them was dead. If he had arrived in the time he wanted, at some point in the next twenty-five years he was going to have lost at least one of the sisters. His heart had no idea which one, and he wasn't all that sure that he wanted to know. It didn't matter. One of his girls was dead.

Leo didn't have a family, not in his own time, not really. Anyone (or most anyone) who he'd loved in his mortal life was long out of reach. His parents were long passed; his wife remarried with children and even great-grandchildren. The point was he didn't have them. The sisters, though, they had taken him into their lives. He hadn't only gained a wife in Piper. He had gained three fabulous sisters in Prue, Phoebe, and Paige. His heart ached to know at least one of them was no longer with him. He didn't know When or Who or How, but one of them was obviously gone. He had always known it would happen eventually. After all, he was immortal and they weren't. He would outlive them. He'd always known that. Knowing and accepting, however, were two very different things. Seeing the triquetra torn apart on The Book's cover brought it all back to him. Immortality —

" — really sucks, you know!"

A grumping male voice floated up from what sounded like the bottom of the stairwell, finishing Leo's thought for him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he missed the clomping of shoes on the stairs. He had to stifle a wry chuckle, in spite of this unwelcomed reality check that The Book had just given him. Whatever it was that sucked for the man at the bottom of the stairs, Leo couldn't agree with him more. _Thanks for finishing my thought for me. I'm right there with you, man_, the Elder thought.

What sounded like an order to the clomping shoes came floating up the stairs to him, still annoyed but not actually as annoyed as it was trying to sound. "You two get back down here, right now! Do not leave me down here without you!"

"They can deal without us for a few minutes," a slightly irritated female voice that sounded like it was aiming down the stairs came around the doorway, much closer and announcing at least one new arrival to the attic. "Just keep them entertained for us for a little while, would you please? Let them feel _your_ stomach for a while."

A different but very familiar male voice, closer and obviously addressing only the person next to him, said with just as much sarcasm, "Are you sure that's an offer you want to make to him when Tina the Home-Wrecking Wonder Slut is downstairs? You might not get Charlie back if you leave them alone together."

"Oh, please." She rounded the corner and came through the doorway into the room, smoothing long, blonde hair out of her eyes. With her vision cleared, she braced her hand on the doorjamb and kicked a pair of clunky heeled shoes off across the attic room, nearly hitting Leo in the head and betraying the perception of elegance that her long, flowing black dress suggested. She shook out the dark red bundle in her other arm to reveal a sweater that she snuggled comfortably around her stomach, which was slightly giving way to what Leo guessed was five or six months of pregnancy. As she pulled her hair out from in between her back and the sweater, she grumbled over her shoulder, "I swear, Christopher, I can't take another four months of this. I'm ready to start freezing the room every time anyone even looks like they're reaching for me. How do generations of normal women do this year after year? I don't get it."

Then, mercifully, Leo got another of the answers he was looking for. This one seemed to be much more positive as his fully grown and very much alive son followed the woman into the attic. Even though he'd heard Chris's voice, he hadn't dared to hope until now. Dear God, he looked so good. He could use a shave, but that didn't really bother Leo much. It just looked inappropriate for the nicely tailored black suit Chris wore; so were the badly scuffed black sandals he sported. Without realizing the implications, Leo wondered where Piper would be that she would let him out so unsuitably dressed.

Still, none of that mattered. If the potion had brought Leo to when he wanted, that meant he was now past Chris's twenty-fifth birthday. With any luck, Wyatt was still alive, too, leaving them both safe and sound. At the moment, though, all Leo wanted to do was look at his son for a little while longer. Chris was alive. He was walking and talking and dressing badly and making faces at the woman's back. His boy was okay.

"And you can have the dreams and the cravings and the sick and everything else. Just call me when the fun part gets here," the woman mumbled, bringing Leo out of his happy mind-wandering. "That plan work for everybody? Good. Great. _FAN_tastic!"

"Well, that's what you get for going off and having The Sex," Chris told her in that patronizing voice Leo had come to know so well.

She seemed to know that tone well, too, and was in no way going to take it from him. "You make it sound like my baby is some potion I whipped up in the kitchen or something. It's not like I did this one all by myself. I seem to remember Charlie being there to help."

"_Didn't_ want to know that," Chris moaned at her. "What you two do in your own time is your business."

"That's not what you said when you slugged him," she retorted.

Chris offered her one of his patented looks. He shrugged his shoulders out of his suit coat, loosened his tie from around his neck, and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up around his elbows. As he did, he continued to defend himself against the woman's accusation, the yanking and tugging of clothing serving to punctuate his words. "You're right, it's not. If you don't count Wyatt, I am the oldest, and just because it was only you, me, and Sam left that night doesn't mean I'm not still the oldest. That makes _me_ responsible for all of _you_. So when you show up in my bedroom in the middle of the night, _crying_, and tell me that, not only are you twenty and pregnant, but _our Whitelighter_ is the father and you don't know what to do, I'm not exactly going to be calm. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me if you wouldn't have done the exact same thing. Hmm?"

None of that sounded too promising to Leo. He hoped he was hearing the words _If you don't count Wyatt_ wrong. They could mean anything, right? Instead, Leo reined himself in on the fact that, without knowing it, Chris had given him every indication that the woman he was talking to was family. If she was a sister or a cousin (not that it would probably matter in this household if they were all still living under the same roof), Leo couldn't be certain, but she definitely belonged to one of the three sisters. Of course she did. If he really looked at her, he would have known she was a Halliwell in an instant. She was family, family and pregnant. Suddenly the _our Whitelight__er_ and _twenty and pregnant_ parts didn't sound so good to him either. At the same time, Leo took it as a good sign that he and Chris actually agreed on something. That was a start.

After another pointed rise of his eyebrows and a huffy toss of his jacket onto the back of a chair, Chris went on. "You can't blame me for being upset that night. You know damned well that if you were me, the first thing you would have done is call his orbing ass down here and punch his lights out, too. I like the guy, but at that particular moment, he was lucky I'm the one you came to and not Wyatt."

"(A), I'd never call Wyatt for anything. And (B), if _you_ got pregnant by our Whitelighter, I wouldn't be calling him. I'd be calling a priest and a doctor, hoping at least one of them would have an explanation for that little miracle of science." When Chris just stared at her with a _Gimme a Break_ sort of look and didn't say anything in return, she softened. "You're right, okay? I get it. It wasn't the smartest thing in the world for me to do. I never should have let myself involved with Charlie, especially after I found out he wasn't just a conveniently placed neighbor like we always thought. But I did and I'm in the situation I'm in, and there isn't anything we can do about it now but deal. Okay? Please? Don't be mad at me for too long. Things are hard enough."

"I'm not mad at _you_," said Chris, apparently surprised she thought he was angry with her. "Do I think Charlie should have known better than to get involved romantically with one of his charges? Sure. Do I think you could have learned a little lesson from this family's history of witches and their Whitelighters? Definitely. But I also know he was there for you in a way I can't, and you needed him. Given family history, I guess it was bound to happen with at least one of us kids, although why it had to be you is beyond me. It was just a big surprise. That's all. I was never _mad_ at you."

The woman — _No, actually, girl. She's family and twenty, which makes her a girl_, Leo thought — looked like she didn't really believe him but didn't want to talk about it any longer. She shrugged like what she was saying didn't really mean much, but the tone of her words said anything but. "Well, whatever you're thinking about it, don't feel that way for too long, okay? I can't do this without you."

"_I. Am. Not. Mad. At. You._" Tiredly, Chris flopped down on the end of the sofa and glared. "And you're not doing this alone. Would I ever let you go through something like this alone?" When she didn't answer him, he went on, snapping, "I'll take that as a '_No_', and, damn it, I'm not mad so quit looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you think I'm mad at you and I just killed your puppy."

"I'm not. Besides, we don't have a puppy. We have a cat," she pouted. This time it was Chris's turn to look at her like he didn't believe her, to which she quickly defended herself. "I'm _not_ giving you a look, you bum. This is just my face. I've got it. You're not mad at me."

"Then what?"

She looked down at him, sadly and not without a great deal of anxiety. "Do you think Grandpa was mad?"

Chris rolled his eyes and stretched a hand up to her, which she took and used to help her sit down next to him on the couch. When she was sitting in what was going to be comfortable for her for at least a few minutes, he looked at her, hard and sincere. "Grandpa was not mad. He was not disappointed or any of the other things you seem to have running around in that paranoid little head of yours today. He was thrilled for you. You're going to be a mom. He was going to be a great-grandfather. Are you kidding? He was tickled. He was just worried. This isn't exactly like the time you came home with a tattoo, you know. That's normal kid stuff. A baby is big time scary life stuff, and he has every right to worry about things like that. You're his granddaughter. He'd be worried about you no matter how old you were when this happened. That was his job. It's what grandpas do. He loved you, and he would have loved this baby. I'm going to love this baby. Sam would have loved this baby. The sisters would have loved the baby. The whole family would have loved this baby. It would be a gigantic hippy love fest. We were all excited. There is going to be a new baby in the house, the first of the new Halliwell generation. So knock it off and stop worrying about it. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look so sure."

"I don't know," she said, looking down at her hands, which were protectively draped over her stomach. "I guess I just wish a lot of this could be different, you know?"

Sadly, Chris agreed in a low whisper, "I know."

"Do you think he's okay?" she asked, prompting Chris to turn himself into the corner of the sofa for a better look at her. Leo looked at her, too, seeing her fighting tears that she was quite obviously willing not to fall. She swallowed them back and straightened her quavering voice to ask, "I mean, do you think he's alone there?"

Chris's smile was gentle, hopeful as he told her, "Nah. The sisters are with him. Everybody else, too. Everyone got over the him-leaving-the-sisters-when-they-were-kids thing a long time ago. There is no way they would let him cross over alone. I bet even Grams and Grandma are there. They probably have a poker game started already."

The sisters? As in all of them? Leo didn't like the sound of that. Everybody else? None of that sounded very promising to him at all. Were they _all_ gone? Were Chris and this girl the only ones left? That couldn't be.

The kids on the couch didn't seem to be as devastated saying that as he was in hearing it. Then again, if what he was guessing was true, they had probably had plenty of time to get used to saying it. Still, it bothered Leo that Chris could refer to the sisters so casually. How long had his son been referring to his mother and aunts that way? They were 'The Sisters', not 'Mom' or 'Aunt Phoebe' or 'Paige'; and who was 'Everyone'? Were there other children who had already had their lives cut short like this Sam apparently had? Were Phoebe and Paige married, so that there were husbands to grieve for as well? Leo wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that one. So far, none of the answers that he'd come looking for, save that Chris was very much alive, were the ones he had wanted at all.

References to the Dearly Departed of the Halliwell line didn't faze the girl either. A twinkle of sarcasm returned to her eyes, erasing the only sign of defeated fear and sadness that Leo had seen in her. "Well, he better be having a better time than we are right now, or else we are never throwing him another party like this again."

"We're getting pretty good at throwing funerals in this house, aren't we?"

"At least I know that after all of this is over and I actually live through it, I have a future in party planning." The girl looked at Chris with a half-pursed smile, threatening him as well as joking. "But I'm telling you right now, you better not even think about going before me. I am all funeraled out these days. You die before me, Christopher, and you will be getting nothing more than a bonfire and a keg in the backyard. You hear me?"

Chris saluted her with a quick flare of his wrist. "Yes, Ma'am."

Feigning offense at the salute, she raised her eyebrows and snapped, "Just for that . . . "

The girl put her feet up across Chris's lap and wiggled her toes at him, amusing Leo to no end. Piper had used that little signal on him many, many times when she was pregnant with Wyatt. The signal had seen even more use during her pregnancy with Baby Chris, but it had been directed at her sisters. Chris seemed to understand the signal just fine, though. Leo wondered briefly if Piper had used it on their adult Chris, but was pulled back into the moment as he watched Chris's hands reach for the girl's feet. A quick playful grin on his face suggested he might be tempted to tickle her feet, but he instead put his fingers to work while the girl laid her head back against the arm of the sofa.

Neither one of the two kids said anything for quite a while. Chris laid his head against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes in apparent exhaustion even though his fingers kept working hard on the girl's right foot. She responded by flinging one of her arms over her stomach and the other over her eyes, sheltering them both from the light. They both seemed lost in their own little worlds that were somehow the same. It even looked as if Chris almost had her asleep when she opened her eyes and looked hard at him.

Without any other warning, the room grew very cold. The kids felt it, too. The silence between them choked everything in the room. Leo couldn't imagine what could possibly be going on between them at the moment, but whatever it was, they were struggling with it. He watched them, both looking terribly nervous, and could practically feel the wrenching in their stomachs. Something was going on, something big. From the looks on their faces, they both understood that it was something big.

"You felt that?" she whispered urgently.

"Yeah." Chris's narrowed eyes toured around the room. As soon as he said it, the cold feeling left the room. Warily, he told her, "I think it's gone."

The girl blew out a breath of relief, only to replace it with one filled with apprehension. "I'm not ready to do this."

"I know."

"We just buried Victor two hours ago, Christopher. We still have people in the house, for God's sakes."

Chris was visibly pained but torn about doing whatever this '_this_' was, although he certainly put on a good face about it. "Listen to me. That's why we need to do it now. He'd never expect us to try to do something while we still had people in the house. Just because he has no problem risking the exposure of magic doesn't mean we don't, and he knows it. Besides, this is the last thing he's going to expect. He would have stationed more of them around the house today if he was expecting anything, don't you think?"

"What do I think? I think this is crazy, and our lives are crazy, and I want it to end. I want to be normal. Can't we just sit here and pretend for a few more minutes that we're still going to be here in the morning?"

He grinned a lopsided smile at her, joking and hopeful at the same time. "You were never normal, and we _will_ be back in the morning."

"You know what I mean," she snapped, unwilling to let go of her fear and anxiety. "Why can't we be normal grandkids grieving for their grandfather? Can't we even do a funeral like normal people? Is that really too much to ask?"

"I don't know, but on the bright side, if things go the way we want them to, you won't ever have to ask that question again. Neither of us will."

"You really think we can do this?"

"You're not giving up on me already, are you? You know me better than that."

"I know," she said, and from the light in her eyes when she looked at him, Leo saw she had every faith in the world in Chris. He was maybe the only person she had any faith in anymore, from the looks of it. "I need this to work, Christopher; I want things to be right."

"They will be." Chris stood up in front of the girl, reaching both hands down to help her pregnant body up out of the cushions. "C'mon. The sooner we do this, the sooner the world becomes what it was supposed to be. I am not going to let your baby come into this world any other way."

When the girl was standing, she wrapped her arms around Chris's neck. Leo could see tears in her eyes as she hugged him hard. "My baby is really luck to have you, Christopher. We both are."

"I'm going to fix this, for all of us," he returned, sounding just as sad. "I promise."

"I know you will." They held on for a just a moment longer until she pulled away. She wiped tears from her eyes, straightened herself up, and exhaled a long, relaxing breath. She nodded to herself and began talking quickly, like if she slowed down she wouldn't be able to get the words out any further. "Okay, one last time — "

"It's _my_ plan," Chris started in protest.

"Humor me," she urged.

Chris rolled his eyes, but he was definitely grinning at her. "Well, didn't we wake up on the hormonal side of the bed this morning?"

A playful slap on the shoulder was his reward. "Watch it, buster. Now . . . " The girl started pacing in a small pattern in front of Chris, ticking things off on her fingers as she went along. "I'll freeze the room once or twice — " As she ticked that first thing off, she looked to Chris and asked, "That _should_ be enough to set off the alarms, right? Just freezing the room a couple of times? I'm not going to need to do anything else, right?" Chris nodded at her, leaving Leo wondering what alarms she was talking about. "Okay, so the alarm goes off, one of his goons shimmers in. You think he'll send Biltok again?"

"Just because we've got the funeral today doesn't mean he'll change a whole lot," Chris offered. "He'll think we're just trying to summon Grandpa, being the insolent little troublemakers we are. So unless he's expecting an attack today, which isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, it's going to be Biltok. He always sends Biltok first."

She nodded solemnly, ticking that one off on one of her fingers. She glanced over to one of the potions tables and nodded to herself, then ticked something off on her finger that Leo couldn't quite figure. She went on, obviously oblivious to anyone but Chris watching her. "Screw being a pacifist; I've been waiting to blow up that smarmy little slug forever. Anyway, you reset the alarms after two minutes. That gives us a total of ten minutes to summon Grams, get Charlie up here, and to explain everything to them both before he gets antsy enough to send someone else along. That one we send back to him."

"He'll get suspicious once that one gets back. I give us only another minute or two to get the spell off and get out of here."

"If he shows up before then?"

"We promised the sisters we wouldn't do anything to hurt him, and we won't."

Leo had that look plenty of times, the one where he doesn't think about anything else but Wyatt and how to save him. While Leo appreciated the gesture, he wasn't so sure he liked that Chris wore that expression again. Worse, from what Chris was saying, they were going back to save Wyatt. That was what that damned spell in his back pocket was all about. Chris, however, seemed to be a lot more hopeful about the scenario than Leo's heart was.

"But he has to be stopped. You know that. Look at what he's done to this family. Look at what he's done to the world. No one else can stop him, not like we can. Unless you see something I don't, this is the only way."

The girl looked like she was trying really hard to be brave as she asked, "While we're there, can we hint to the sisters and Leo that they need to add a few more bedrooms? Or maybe buy the house next? Six adults, eight kids, random demons, a ghost, and all of the children's toys do not fit into six bedrooms. 'Cause if you ask me, that's what turned him to Evil in the first place — sharing a bedroom with you, Jack, and Sam his whole life."

"Very funny." Chris took in a deep breath and exhaled hard enough to blow the hair out of the girl's eyes. To her, he nodded and ordered, "Once we take care of Biltok, you stay close to me, you hear? You _stay close_ to me. If for some reason I can't get to the portal, you go without me. I'll find another way if I have to. Not that I have to worry about it because you're going to stay right next to me."

"Close to you, check. Close to the portal, check. All right. Let's get this little commotion started, shall we?"

She raised her hands to prepare to freeze the room, making Leo panic. If she was about to set things in motion for Chris to come back from the future again, there was no way he could let that happen. Not again. He couldn't let his son go through all of the things he did, only to die cold and helpless in his arms. Forgetting that the kids had no idea he had been there at all, Leo stepped forward to try to talk Chris out of doing this. This time, he and the sisters could take care of Wyatt on their own. They knew now what could happen and were fully prepared to deal with it. There was no sense in Chris risking himself again. Not again.

Just when he was about to take another step, the reality of everything came back to him. He couldn't stop Chris from going back. If he made himself visible to the kids and tried to talk them out of helping Wyatt, they wouldn't believe him anyway. They would just wait to go through with their plan until after Leo was gone. That was the way Chris had always done things. Besides, seeing Leo suddenly come into view would probably be a shock of enough proportion that the kids would automatically try to vanquish him before realizing who he was. That certainly wasn't a chance he could afford to take. No, the best thing he could do was let them go through with their plan, and then when they all got back he could track them down before they did anything. He could send them back before anything bad could happen to either of them.

Remedial plan decided, Leo relaxed and made to walk out of the way of these goons he kept hearing about until the kids were ready to do whatever they were going to do. Unfortunately, he relaxed right onto _that_ floorboard. He watched Chris's face for reaction, but his attention seemed to be intently locked on the girl with him. She didn't appear to have moved at all. Perceiving the danger to be passed, Leo carefully raised his toes, one by one in his shoe, hoping to pry his foot off the board without any further sounds.

"Hey, guys? We have a problem."

A new voice called from the top of the stairs, startling the already nervous kids and distracting Leo enough to take his attention away from remaining undetected. In his haste, he not only caused the board in the floor to rise and fall again with a rather loud squeak, but he also jumped back from the noise to trip over his own feet until he caught himself on the edge of one of the potion tables. He was able to keep the table from tipping over, but bottles and bowls on top of it rattled and clanked, giving away the presence of at least someone or something in the attic.

Immediately, Chris whirled around, searching the room with his eyes narrowed. "Freeze the room."

"He won't freeze."

"Just do it."

Her hands flew up in a manner reminiscent of Piper, but with a flare entirely her own. The next thing Leo knew, his son, both born and murdered only nine days ago, stood directly in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. Next to him, the much smaller woman stood, looking equally unhappy. Her hands were still mid-air, having just unfrozen the room. They obviously could see him, probably because they had cast some spell to make the intruder visible to them. They didn't seem too threatened by his appearance, but they both looked slightly unnerved. Chris moved just slightly to his right, partially shielding her from Leo's view as the very much alive young man raised his eyebrows in question, expectantly blinking his eyes as if to say, "_Well?_"

Anyone who had known Leo would have recognized his nervous gesture as his hands immediately reached for the back pockets of his jeans. He hooked his thumbs into the pockets, nervously twittering his fingers behind him. His mind worked furiously, trying to think of how he could explain his presence. The more nervous he got, he started rocking on the balls of his feet. Then, finally, he managed to say something, which was far from what he needed to be able to say.

With a crooked, half smile, he greeted them. "Hi, Kids."

**II.**

When the two older Halliwell sisters returned to the manor, Phoebe immediately set off in search of a nap, prompting Piper to want to check on her (hopefully) still-sleeping children. Before she made the long trek up the stairs — it was a damned long, post-surgery trek — she made a detour to the kitchen to grab both of the boys bottles from the refrigerator. She reached into the cold to pull out the bottles and grabbed a water bottle for herself along the way. She couldn't explain it, but she had been incredibly dehydrated since coming home. The doctor said that it would pass, but he didn't really have an explanation for it either. Still, the man had saved her baby. She wasn't going to give him too much grief after that. She was far too grateful.

She shut the refrigerator door and leaned back against the island counter for a moment. With the water bottle pressed against her cheek, she closed her eyes and tried to find a way to calm herself down a bit. It had been an emotional afternoon, and she really wanted a moment to not have to think about anything at all. This was actually one of the things that made Piper miss being pregnant. Even though the boys had both given her plenty of the usual pains of pregnancy — constant morning sickness, constant cravings, constant everything biological — they had also given her a kind of peace she had never had at any other time in her life. She supposed it was the Whitelighter (or Elder) in them, the pacifist leanings. Maybe they were trying to make up for the icky parts, but they had made their mommy feel very safe and loved, too. It had given her a sweet calm that she just couldn't explain any other way.

Out of nowhere, the voice of her adult son came back to her, plain as day. "_Sorry about, you know, me._"

_That's okay, Kiddo_, Piper thought. _It wasn't your fault. Okay, it was, but you didn't mean it. Besides, you made up for it. You more than made up for it._

Suddenly, Piper wanted more than anything to see her son. There was no real reason why he wouldn't be, but she needed to know for sure that Christopher was okay. She made the trudge up the stairs as quickly as she could, like if she didn't get there as soon as possible, he might disappear forever. In this house, anything was possible. Ever since Leo told her about how Chris had disappeared from his arms, her dreams at night were tortured by visions of Baby Christopher vanishing from her sight while his big brother looked on with a smile. The chill she got every time she thought of it ran through her, prompting her to take the stairs even faster. By the time she reached her bedroom door, Piper was in the throes of a full-on baby panic. She flew into her room without even the pretense of quiet, whether they were asleep or not. She needed to see her baby.

Paige started awake when the door knocked back against the wall. Her eyes hadn't even opened before she sat up and threw her body protectively around the two boys. She pulled them to her and warned Wyatt of danger before she even had a clue what had burst into her sister's bedroom. As Wyatt's protective bubble formed and deflated around himself, his brother, and his aunt, his highly traumatized aunt snapped at his mother. "Damn it, Piper! You know you can't do that in this house!"

"Sorry," Piper winced, suddenly feeling very foolish. "And hey! Language!"

"Sorry." Paige tiredly swiped at her eyes so she could glare at Piper with clarity. "So what's the hubbub, bub?"

Piper sat down on the edge of her bed with a grumble. "I said I'm sorry I just . . . "

"You just what?"

"I don't know," Piper admitted, still feeling a little silly for panicking the way she had. "I had this awful feeling I had to see them, like they were going to disappear if I didn't get here in time. Silly, right?"

"Christopher isn't going to disappear," Paige said reassuringly. _No, he already did that_, she thought to herself, but she knew she couldn't say that one out loud to her sister. Piper was already messed up as it was, and she hadn't even had to see it happen. A brief chant echoed in her head — _New baby, baby Christopher, celebrate_ — until Paige instead tried to utilize her best sister skills that she had acquired in the last few years and grinned. "Neither will Wyatt. They're both okay. They have me and Phoebe, and they have you for a mom. They know they're okay. But if you want to panic about it, they're going to understand. They'll just wait for you to show up every time you do."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," said Paige in that same celebratory voice she'd been using for the last nine days. A fussy whimper from Wyatt in her lap took her attention temporarily away from her sister until she saw the bluish orbs float from Piper's lap to his hand. As her nephew stuck the spout of the baby sports bottle that they had been using to transition him from bottle to tippy cup in his mouth, Paige looked back at Piper, all smiles. "See? Wyatt has you covered."

"I guess he does." Piper grinned at him with her Amazed Mommy smile. She reached over and swept one of his lengthening curls around the back of his ear before she reached to take Baby Christopher to her, her smile turning sadly to him. "What do you think, Christopher? Does your big brother have us covered?" The sisters smiled at one another then down at the children in their arms. Before she even realized that she was saying it out loud, Piper muttered, "I hope he does."

"You okay?" asked Paige.

"Just tired. It doesn't matter."

"Why don't you take a nap or something? The three of us are fine. Aren't we guys?"

"I would, I think, but I . . . " She smiled down at the two boys lovingly. She _was_ tired, but she couldn't bring herself to shut her eyes long enough to sleep. She was too aware, too afraid, and far too fascinated to let them close. Eventually it would catch up with her, but until it did, she didn't want to take her eyes off her sons for anything. With a slow shake of her head, she sighed. "No. No, I'm fine. I'll sleep later on tonight once they're both out. You look like you could use a few hours, though."

"Well, thank you very much," said Paige, feigning offense. She grinned, though, soon afterward and waved her big sister off. "Nah. I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Paige said, shaking her head and bouncing Wyatt on her knee. "I need some kid time. Something has the magical world going bonkers, and someone at the temp agency got tired of taking cryptic messages for me. The dirtbag started giving my cell number to whatever and whoever calls, which means that any and all magical creatures have a direct hotline to me now instead of that cushy in-between. I had to turn the ringer off four days ago and haven't gotten around to going through all of the messages yet. So believe me, I want time with my nephews when I can get it. Look at these little faces. How am I supposed to tear myself away from these faces?"

Piper dramatically flipped her hair, brushed her nails on her chest, and mugged with a huge, toothy smile. "Yeah, we make pretty cute babies in this house, don't we?"

"I don't want to test that theory until I've been married for at least five years," groaned Paige. "But I'll consider these two angels as proof positive until then."

They each looked down at the boys in their arms and squeezed them a little bit harder. When their eyes found each other, without a word they knew they were thinking the same thing: they were lucky to even be holding two boys at all. They had come far too close to losing them both. But they were there. Home, loved, and safe. If they were going to sit there, marveling over the two boys, they should be taking in the wonderful things, not things that were in no way wanted memories. Fears could be fretted over some other night.

As they watched, sparkling blue orbs swirled around them to flutter in front of Piper's face. Wyatt pointed at them and giggled while they swirled over Christopher. Piper and Paige exchanged quick glances, but were almost as mesmerized by the orbs as Wyatt was. Then, as Piper was dividing her gaze between her sons, she suddenly realized something.

"Paige," she whispered, "Look at his finger."

While the little finger that Wyatt extended pointed and swirled around in the air in front of him, the orbs over the baby's head dipped and dived and rose and jumped in the same direction at the same time. The orbs weren't taking any real shapes, but they were moving around in whatever direction Wyatt orchestrated. The two sisters watched with utter astonishment as their little man giggled some more and entertained his new brother.

"Wow," Paige breathed.

"Yeah. Pretty amazing, huh? And here I was worried."

"Worried about what?"

"I don't know. I just . . . Some of the things that Chris said about what it was like for him in the future and what Wyatt was going to grow up to be? I wonder sometimes if I shouldn't let Wyatt be too close to the baby. I mean, I know that isn't how things will turn out. They're going to be the best of friends, like all of us are. Sure, they'll fight and probably beat up on each other now and then because that's what boys do, but for the most part, they're going to be brothers. But at the same time, there's this little voice in my head that sounds just like Chris telling me how Wyatt would do unspeakable things because he knew he could get away with it. Chris never told me anything that happened between them, but it was there, you know?"

"Piper — "

"I know it's silly, I do. For God's sakes, they're still babies. And like I said, I know we did it — we saved Wyatt from turning evil in the future. We had to. Wyatt will grow up protecting his little brother the way that big brothers are supposed to do. He's going to love Christopher. But there is still this part of me, Paige, that's terrified. You saw what he did to Leo in the spider demon's cave. There couldn't have been anything good about growing up for him if he could do that to his own father. I keep telling myself that this time is going to be different. Until I figure out how to do that, though, part of me wants to just keep him as far away from everything evil as I possibly can, including his brother if I have to."

"This world is going to be a better place for both of them, I promise. We won't let it be any other way."

Piper reached her free hand over to Paige and squeezed her Wyatt-free knee. She turned her smile down on her newborn with all the reassurance she could muster in her exhausted state. "You hear that? We're going to make this a better world for you, Christopher. We promise. You are never going to have to be afraid. Your brother is going to love you. Your parents love you. Your auntie Paige and Aunt Phoebe love you, too. The future you came from isn't going to exist. You're going to be happy and loved. I promise you, honey. You will never feel that way, ever again."

Paige hugged Wyatt close again, although her heart shared the hug with her other nephew as well. "You guys got that?"

Her answer was for the swirl of orbs to sway away from the baby up to circle around in front of her face for a moment before swinging back to Christopher.

"I think Wyatt likes that plan," Piper mused, grinning at her first-born with amazement. She waved at him, spurning him to giggle louder and happier. "How about you, Christopher? Do you like that plan?"

Piper smiled down at Christopher while his wondering eyes followed the bright balls of light in front of him, amazed at the tiny person in her arms. In all the time that the grownup Chris had been around and she had known his true identity, she had tried to imagine what he was going to look like as a baby. She already knew what he was going to grow up to look like, but he was a fully formed person by the time he came to her. She had wondered what he was going to be like when he was small, unable to take care of himself and actually needing her. It turned out that he was a lot more like his big brother than she could have imagined.

Still, Baby Christopher was something of an enigma to her, too. She couldn't quite figure out what it was, but she knew it was something. The funny thing was, from the look in her son's eyes, he was thinking the exact same thing about her.

"Um, Piper?" Paige asked sheepishly. She looked like she felt badly for interrupting her sister's thoughts. "Speaking of Christopher not feeling unwanted? We were so busy worrying about Wyatt and protecting Wyatt and all things Wyatt — which isn't a bad thing, but you know what I mean . . . " She waited for Piper to nod her acknowledgment before she continued. "Well, we never did a lot of things for the new baby that we should have done. So I was thinking, I would like to give him a shower. It's a little late, I know, but I want him to have had one."

Guilt overtook Piper's expression, which she knew was exactly not what Paige had been going for. Still, Paige was right. They _hadn't_ done anything near the same astronomic welcome to the world for Christopher as they had for Wyatt. Sure, they had been busy trying to protect Wyatt, but that wasn't really an excuse. She had _two_ sons, not just one. It was no wonder Chris had so many issues with thinking he was second best. Well, that was going to change. She _had_ to change it. Her baby deserved better than second anything.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Thank you." Piper grinned gratefully. To the infant in her arms, she said, "See? Paige is on the ball. She loves you. We all love you, honey."

"I've got you covered, Little Man," Paige nodded sharply at the baby. When Piper didn't say anything else in response to that, Paige asked, "What's wrong?"

"I wonder why Chris never said anything about it. I know he was worried about Wyatt and wanting to be sure that Wyatt was taken care of, but . . . He never complained. He never pointed out that we were, if you think about it, ignoring that he was going to be born at all. Other than that one time that the spider demon attacked us, he never complained about the attention Little Christopher wasn't getting. He never talked about himself, not even after we found out who he was, but he talked about Wyatt all the time. He never talked about what kind of relationship they had or anything, like he wasn't even there or like he didn't matter in any of it. Chris never talked about himself like he mattered. It was only about Wyatt. He put everything about Wyatt before himself. I guess I don't understand why he wouldn't complain. He didn't say anything about us forgetting about him at all. What did we do to him to make him think that he didn't matter?"

Paige immediately jumped to banish that thought from Piper's head. "No! God, no! It wasn't like that. It couldn't be. If it was, he would have hated all of us, not only Leo. Like you said, his brother was his focus. There were plenty of times that we were really awful to him, but he never complained about that either. He just kept on trying to take care of his family. We scared him. We hurt him. We said terrible things to him. You should have seen what Leo did to him when he got back from Valhalla, but Chris took it because he wanted to save his family. That was exactly how he put it to me when I found out who he was. All he said was '_I'm Piper and Leo's son. They're my parents. I came back to save my family._' That was it. No _I love you_s or _Can we start over now_s or anything like that. When the four of us were talking after we told you who he was, he wouldn't let us apologize to him about how we had been treating him since he got here either. He had his mission that he had given himself, and that was it. Look at how hard he fought Leo and the rest of us about changing any of our relationships with him. I don't think that throwing himself a baby shower was really a part of that agenda. He wanted to save his brother, not himself."

"But at what expense?" Piper asked. "How do we explain to him that we, including his future self, were so wrapped up in saving Wyatt that we didn't have time for him? What if he thinks we didn't care? Kids do that. They notice these things. Second children notice that there aren't nearly as many cute-naked-baby-in-the-bathtub pictures. And we didn't take any pictures of me pregnant with him, not like we took pictures of every single inch when I was pregnant with Wyatt. It isn't like there aren't all kinds of Daddy-putting-the-nursery-together pictures for Wyatt. I don't even have an ultra-sound for Christopher because he conveniently hid it from me after you and I embarrassed him in the elevator that day. Paige, how could we not think about those things? He's going to think we didn't care about him."

"We are _not_ going to let that happen," said Paige reassuringly.

"How do you know?"

Paige smiled and tiredly wiped her eyes again. "Because, for one thing, I stayed up all night last night addressing envelopes and writing his birth announcements."

A pleasantly surprised smile flooded Piper's face. "You did?"

"Yep, and I called a caterer so you don't have to do any of the work for the shower. I booked it for next weekend while your dad is still here, if that's okay with you. I talked to the lady we bought all the decorations from for Wyatt's parties, and I got her to order me some special stuff for Christopher. I'm picking up the invitations tomorrow. All I need you to do is find the stamps. I can't seem to find them anywhere. I was also going to see if Phoebe could get somebody to put an announcement in the paper about the party, too, since it's going to be on such short notice. I can make calls, too, if you want. Everything is in order, if you want to do it."

"Are you kidding? Of course I do. I can't believe you did all this. I don't know what to say."

"Well, you guys all have a lot on your plates right now. I can wait to miss him until you guys are ready."

"You're allowed to miss him, too, you know." Piper was suddenly struck by something she had never really noticed until they were talking, something she couldn't believe she had missed. "Now I know where Chris got his little selfless streak from."

"Huh?"

"From you." Piper reached over and swept some hair away from Paige's face, thinking about just how right she was and wondering why it had never occurred to her before now where this had come from. "Don't think we don't notice how, ever since you came into this family, you put your own feelings behind ours sometimes. You are my sister. Just because you weren't with us for twenty-four years doesn't mean you are any less important to us either. Your feelings count, too. You can stop stepping back any time now."

"I don't step back," Paige argued weakly. Then, trying to steer the subject back to her missing-but-present nephew, she said, "Besides, he's my nephew, and I wanted to do something nice for him. That's all."

Apparently bored with his orbs and wanting some new kind of attention, Wyatt stopped directing the bluish sparks and let them lazily twinkle in front of his brother's eyes. He, however, ignored them and tugged on Paige's hand, begging for an answer to his new favorite question. "'Hat's 'at? 'Hat's 'at?"

"What's what?" Piper asked. He had only been asking the question for a week, so it hadn't quite tired them out yet. She looked around the room to find whatever it was he was looking at, but couldn't quite find it. "Honey, what do you see?"

"'Hat's 'at" was quickly followed by a thrown bottle onto the floor.

The answer apparently wasn't nearly as important as the question itself, though, because Wyatt didn't say anything else. He kept staring at something that neither Piper nor Paige could see. The girls both shrugged after awhile and went back to talking about the boys and how much fun they were to have in the house until some internal warning went off in Piper's head, reminding her of the thing she had been planning for the evening. "Listen, I was wondering, would you mind watching the boys for a little while yet? I have a date with a ghost that I've been putting off for far too long."

"Grams?"

Piper winced playfully. "Yeah. She's going to go completely thermal when I tell her everything."

"How do you think she's going to react to you having another boy?"

"I'm hoping that will be the least of her issues with the entire thing, but if not? She has plenty of time to get over it." Her entire body exuded dread as she lazily pushed herself up closer to the head of the bed. She handed Baby Christopher back down in to the crick of his aunt's waiting arm and giggled down at him reassuringly. "I'll be back soon, honey. I promise. Then you can meet your great-grandmother, who I promise you, by the time I'm done with her, is going to be much nicer for you to meet than she was for your brother." To Paige she added in a much more adult voice, "Dad is supposed to arrive some time in the next hour or two. Would you mind keeping him company until I'm done with Grams?"

Paige made a face at the two littlest Halliwells in her lap and asked, "What do you think, guys? Can we keep your grandpa busy for a bit while Mommy fights with Grams?" She looked up at Piper with a wink and confidently goofy grin. "I think we can handle your dad. He'll be putty in our hands."

"Right," Piper snickered. Considering what she knew about her younger son's relationship with her father, she guessed that to probably be very true. "Really? Paige? Thank you for trying so hard to make Baby Christopher welcome in this world. He's lucky to have such a thoughtful aunt."

Paige waved her sister off. "It's no big deal. He's earned it." She grinned up at her sister, almost too cheerfully. "And I'm the lucky one. Now go. Grams is already going to have a snit that you haven't called her yet. Ten more minutes and she might just come across without being summoned at all."

A big grin between the sisters and few agonizingly long minutes later, a circle of white candles lined the circumference of one of the attic rugs. They, along with random candles in varying heights, were the only sources of light in the room since the sun had gone down. Low though the light was, it made up for it with warmth and welcoming, exactly the ambience Piper was going for. Grams had never complained, but she couldn't imagine that it could be very warm on the Ghostly Plane. At least, she didn't remember it being very warm at all. Some day, she'd have to remember to ask one of their Dearly Departed ancestors about it (for future reference, of course).

"Some day is not today, though," Piper said softly, not even realizing she had been talking out loud to herself. "Tonight you have a much more important question to ask."

Having lit the last candle, Piper smoothed the folds of her skirt over her hips. She gathered her sweater closer around her, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath. She hadn't figured out yet what she was going to say, but at least she knew how it always started.

_"Hear these words,  
Hear my cry,  
Spirit from the other side.  
Come to me, I summon thee,  
Cross now the Great Divide."_

The familiar burst of white lights appeared in the middle of the carpet, swirling around until they settled to form the ghostly body of a brightly smiling Penny Halliwell. The lady extended her arms in welcome toward her oldest (living) granddaughter as she stepped off the rug to become corporeal once again. Lovingly, she took Piper into her embrace. "My darling, it's good to see you. How are you?"

"Grams, thank you for coming."

"You call, I answer," Penny replied. She stood back and cupped Piper's face in both of her surprisingly warm hands. "My beautiful girl, you grow more striking every time I see you, although it wouldn't hurt you to do something about those circles under your eyes. Now, tell me, what can I do for you?"

Piper wrapped her hands around her grandmother's. She held them there for a moment, enjoying the comfort that Grams didn't know she provided so perfectly. She closed her eyes again to steel herself to face the question she had summoned Penny from the Afterlife to ask. When she opened her eyes, Grams was still waiting, but already she appeared to be growing impatient. Her eyebrows started twitching up and down, asking a question Penny didn't know how or what to ask. Piper had always hated it when her grandmother did that, but this wasn't about what Grams needed. Grams was dead. She could handle it. Right now, Piper needed patience. She wasn't ready to ask her question, and burning a few more seconds wasn't going to hurt. Brightly, Piper went straight for a diversion and asked, "So, Grams . . . how's life — er — death?"

"I'm just fine, Darling, but the way you are dawdling now tells me that you are not so fine. What is it?"

Piper exhaled her inhibitions out with a huff that blew her hair out of her face. "Okay," she breathed, finally ready. "Grams? How much attention have you been paying to what's been going on around here for the last few months?"

Grams winced with guilt. "Not as much as I would have liked, I admit, although, you girls _are_ grown and perfectly capable of taking care of yourselves. You don't need an old ghost like me hanging around full time. You have two Whitelighters at your call for that. Besides, Gideon has kept Patty, Prue, and myself a little busy lately, so there hasn't been as much time to peek in on you. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I don't have a life. Why do you ask?"

"Whoa!" Piper pulled back, gritting her teeth. She _had_ heard that correctly, hadn't she? As much as she wanted to tell herself she was merely being paranoid and was overtired, in her head, she knew she had heard right. Still, she asked with more than a little fury running the pitch of her voice just a touch too high, "Gideon? _Gideon_? As in Gideon-the-Elder-Who-Watches-Over-The-Magic-School Gideon?"

"Well, of course I mean Gideon the Elder. You know another Gideon?" Out of the corner of her mouth, Penny muttered, "What were _his_ parents thinking?"

Sickness overtook Piper. Gideon was keeping her family busy? Just as he had been doing here on this plane, he had manipulated her Grams and Mom and Prue, too? She took a few more steps back away from her grandmother until the backs of her incredibly shaky knees hit the edge of the sofa. _Gideon? Sonofabitch!_ His betrayal had even gone beyond the living family to the Afterlife? How could he? It wasn't bad enough that he was afraid of her son, but he had to snake around the entire family? Piper gulped the sickness back down and gnashed her jaws so hard she thought she heard a tooth or two crack. Through her trapped jaws, she moaned, "This just gets worse and worse."

"What is this all about?" urged Penny. Piper grabbed her grandmother's hand and yanked the ghostly lady down incredibly hard so that Penny almost left her head behind in the quick snap. Penny's feet fell out from under her so that she plopped hard onto the couch. Her eyes bulged out of her head as she regained her composure with a nervous laugh. "Uh, Piper?"

"You'll want to sit for this. Long story, Grams."

"I have all the time in the world, but you don't — at least, not right now. So start talking."

One of her grandmother's patented _Look_s prompted Piper to finally get on with the business at hand. Part of that business had just become a lot clearer, but she would get to that in a little while. First, there was a lot to explain, a lot that even she didn't understand quite yet. She let herself relax back into the cushions of the sofa and hugged a spare pillow to her chest. One last deep breath and she began. "A lot's been going on, Grams, and that's why I need your help. If what you said just now is true, I think Gideon was trying to keep the three of you out of the way, out of _his_ way."

"Why on Earth would an Elder, of all people, want to keep me away from my girls?"

"Well, Gideon wasn't exactly . . . Let's just say that being an Elder doesn't really have a whole lot to do with it," said Piper bitterly. "But I'll get to that in a minute. I think there's somewhere else we should start first, except, Grams, I really don't know where that is. We're still trying to figure a lot of it out ourselves."

"Darling, stop dawdling. It's unbecoming, especially from you."

"I _am_. Look, Grams, I love you with all my heart — you know that — but I have to tell you, your impatience has always been one of those things that I just hate about you. What I have to tell you is going to take awhile, and I really need you to be here with me on this one instead of speeding ten miles ahead. Can you do that, please?"

Penny gestured for Piper to go on, but not without a little roll of her eyes first for extra measure.

"Thank you," Piper said, still snippy but obviously getting over it. "Why don't we start with me asking you what you're doing a month from today before you clear your calendar anyway?" Penny looked like she was about to come up with some sort of sarcastic remark about Death and scheduling the Afterlife, prompting Piper to narrow her eyes disapprovingly. "Shush! You'll make the long story longer, and you promised." Another permissive gesture set Piper back to explaining, nervously stuttering through the explanation, faster and faster until she tumbled over the words she'd tried figure out for the last few days how to say. "Now, Grams, I need you and the other matriarchs next month because . . . well, because . . . we — that is, Leo and I — well . . . we have a new baby in the house. Baby Christopher. I had a baby. His name is Christopher. Perfect baby. Ten fingers, ten toes, no protective force field, but I think that's his choice and has nothing to do with his powers just yet. He's downstairs in my room with Paige if you want to see him when we're done. He and Wyatt are taking a —"

Penny's face lit up, literally. In her maternal excitement, Grams actually had a glow. She interrupted her granddaughter's nervous rambling with a maternal (but dignified) squeal of baby excitement. "A new baby? Piper, you were pregnant? I had no idea. That's wonderful!" Suddenly, reality seemed to kick in for the ghostly lady. Her expression changed from elation to confusion in quite a hurry. "I haven't been able to look in on you for that long?"

"So it seems."

"Well, Gideon certainly has kept us busy," Penny said dismissively. Her excitement quickly returned to her as she grabbed her granddaughter by the hands. She squeezed them so tightly that Piper's fingers turned white. Whether she was too excited or too dead, Penny didn't seem to notice, though. There was a new baby to bless. "When do I get to meet the little darling? Christopher, is it?"

"Yes, it's Christopher," Piper smiled, choosing to ignore the fact that Grams had referenced her son's murderer again with such casualty. Then she winced again, bracing for the strangeness of conversation she knew would be coming as soon as she said what she had to say. "And you've already met him."

"Don't be silly. How could I have met him if you are only now telling me about him? He's how old? Four days? Five? Don't tell me you waited an entire week to tell me I have a new great-grandson."

"Nine days, actually," Piper said sheepishly. She brightened up quickly, hoping to distract her grandmother from that number nine she could tell her grandmother was going to fixate on. She and a tendency to do that. "But he was twenty-two when you met him a year ago."

Exactly as predicted, Penny completely missed the hint Piper had dropped for her and exploded on the much smaller detail. "_Nine_ days? You waited nine days to call me?"

"I have a really good reason, Grams. It's complicated."

"So you keep telling me." Penny glared with none-too-happy expectation. Everything about her expression said that reason had better involve an entire nest of demons and at least one impending apocalypse. Nothing, on any plane, was more important to Penny Halliwell than her granddaughters and their families. Nothing. Penny crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Piper a little harder. "Well? Out with it already."

"You really did just miss everything I just said, didn't you?" snapped Piper, marveling at her grandmother's One Track mind.

"Don't you get snippy with me, young lady. I may be dead, but I am still your grandmother, and I — "

Interrupting, Piper exploded in frustration. "Yes, you are! _You're my grandmother_ and I need you, and you're making it really damned difficult to talk to you right now. I don't have anybody here to tell me how to do this so I called you, but you're sitting here with that — "

Penny reached over and gripped her granddaughter by the shoulders, hard. "Calm down. You're going to blow something up if you don't, and I would prefer that it wouldn't be me." Penny gestured around in a circle from her chest, smiling. "Now, take a deep breath, relax." Piper did, but not in the gentle way she was being told. Penny rolled her eyes at the gesture, but kept up a chipper sound to her voice. "Good. Now, let's start over. Blessed be, my darling. How are you?"

Piper hoped her grandmother was sincere in her gesture to start over. She needed to start over, too. She took another deep breath in, doing it the right way this time, and let herself relax. She needed to talk to her Grams, the way they used to talk when she was a kid and Grams had all the answers. Hopefully, Grams still had all the answers because, in this situation, there really weren't a whole lot of people around here who could help her with this one.

"Grams," Piper started asking slowly. Admitting it too quickly was going to hurt her too much. Time. She needed to take her time with this. "When Mom died, how did you deal with it?"

"What made you — "

"Just answer the question."

"I didn't," Penny said plainly. "Patty was the light of my life, her and you girls. It hurt so much I didn't think I would ever be able to breathe again, but I had you girls to protect. A trio of warlocks attacked at your mother's funeral. I suppose they thought you girls would be your most vulnerable and I would be too distraught to protect all of you. They reminded me very quickly that I didn't have time to grieve, not with the Charmed Ones under my roof. So instead I helped the three of you along. You three kept me together."

"Did it ever stop hurting?"

"Of course not. The hurt never goes away, not when it's your own child. One day, you learn to not think about it so much, though. What's this about? Has something happened to Wyatt?"

"Wyatt is fine — as far as we can tell, anyway. That's another thing that I'll explain, I promise, but I — "

Impatience finally exploding in her face, Penny snapped, "Then what? You keep saying you'll explain later, but you have yet to explain anything at all. Now what in the world is going on?"

"If you had been listening to me before, you would know," Piper started but decided that it would be a great deal easier to get help from her grandmother if she wasn't quite so snippy about it. Recomposing herself, the witch smoothed her hair out of her eyes and started over in a nicer tone of voice. "Okay. Here it is: the last time we saw you, when we called you because Paige put on your boots? Do you remember meeting our Whitelighter, Chris?"

Penny smiled reminiscently. "You mean the pubescent child the Elders were crazy enough to assign you to? He was a nice enough kid, and he certainly came through in that instance, but he is far too green to look out for you girls. Please tell me he's at least had to start shaving."

The comment should have been funny to Piper (considering that she had had that same thought once or twice about her son), but she wasn't finding the humor there at all. Not anymore. If Chris were still alive, maybe, but he wasn't, and she wasn't really inclined to joke about him yet. Instead of even trying to explain to her grandmother why the comment wasn't funny, she snapped and blurted everything out as quickly as she could.

"No, actually, he doesn't need to shave anymore because he's dead. Gideon murdered him. That's why I called you, because I need you to tell me how I'm supposed to deal with the fact that an Elder murdered my son for trying to protect his big brother from becoming the ruler of all Evil in the future." Realization caught in Piper's throat as it dawned on her that that was the first time she had actually managed to put all of that into words instead of skirting around the reality the way she had been. Then, finally, that was when it all hit her. She looked at her grandmother and knew that her eyes had never welled up with tears so fast in her entire life. Her lips trembled as she boiled it all down to the simplest form. "My son is dead, and I need you to tell me how to deal with it because no one here can tell me how I'm supposed to deal with the fact that my child is dead."

"I don't understand. You said that Wyatt is fine."

"Not Wyatt, Grams. My son, Chris, the baby we had last week. He's going to cast a spell a little over twenty years from now in the future to bring him back to this time so he could stop an evil entity from turning his brother evil. The problem there is we were tricked by the sonofabitch, who turned out not to be some demon like we thought, but Gideon. Instead of Chris stopping him, he stopped Chris. While I was in labor and Paige and Phoebe were under a spell, Gideon murdered Chris and kidnapped Wyatt. Leo was able to save Wyatt but not Chris, so now I need you to tell me how I'm supposed to deal with the fact that my son was murdered by people we were supposed to be able to trust. Chris is dead, Grams, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

Still trying to digest everything that Piper spit out at her, Penny slowly put her shock into at least a few words that really didn't sound all that profound to her once she said them. "You mean to tell me that that spunky little Whitelighter was my great-grandson?"

"From twenty-two years in the future, yeah."

"I knew there was something funny about the way he looked at me." Still confused, Penny asked, "But then, how did he manage to become your Whitelighter? If you and Leo are his parents, wouldn't that make him half witch and only _half_ Whitelighter? How did he heal you girls if you needed help? How did he do any of the — "

"Don't you think you're sort of missing the point here?"

Slowly and with more than a little shock, Penny marveled, "That boy, the Whitelighter — he was my great-grandson and . . . and . . . "

"And he's dead," Piper said, barely containing her tears. "We were actually trying to send him back to his future that day. We were _so sure_ we had found the thing responsible for turning Wyatt in his future that we were trying to send him home. Gideon, he tricked us all into believing that it had worked out. He sent them through a portal to buy himself the time to try to take Wyatt from us. When they got back, Chris stayed with Wyatt while Leo tried to find Gideon. He mur-murdered my son, Grams. Gideon murdered my son. We promised him that he was going to be okay, but we lost him."

With that, Piper finally broke down weeping for the first time since she had been told about her son's death. Sure, she'd had tears. She'd had blazing panics. She'd had nightmares in the few minutes she'd made herself sleep. She hadn't really cried, though. Now, as her grandmother took her into her arms and held her so tight and so close, Piper wondered if she would be able to stop crying ever again.

Softly into her grandmother's shoulder, she rambled, "What am I supposed to do now? Paige is doing all of the happy stuff for all of us, going all out with a party and spending every waking moment she has with the boys. Leo is freaking out. He's going out every night hunting down Barbas. He thinks I don't know, but I can't sleep at night because all I want to do is watch the baby sleep and make sure that he is still here, so I hear Leo sneaking out and in of the house. Leo's cracking up, and I can't help him. Phoebe, she won't talk about it at all. She's been locking herself in her office, and when she does come home, she locks herself in her room. My family is falling apart, and I don't know how to put it back together. It's all I can do to keep myself together. My son is dead, and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now. Grams, what do I do?"

Penny slowly started to rock back and forth, stroking Piper's hair. She tried to disguise the tears in her own voice as she advised, "You talk to me. You cry, you let yourself hurt, and you talk to me. You tell me everything you don't know how to tell everyone else. Then you hurt and cry some more."

"Does that come in any specific order?"

Instead of answering, Penny pulled her darling girl to her and held her even tighter. She continued to rock them back and forth while she looked up through the ceiling and into the heavens. Angrily she thought at whoever was listening to her, _Haven't you put my girls through enough yet?_

**III.**

"Oh, man, we _so_ don't have time for this." Christopher could see that wasn't the reaction Leo would have hoped for, but he couldn't care, not right now. He'd spent so many nights wishing his father would somehow magically appear to be with him, but if there was a single day that that was not on the top of his list of _Things To Happen_, this was the day. Any elation he should've felt was completely shadowed by the fact that Leo had shown up a little too late to the party. "I don't know exactly how you got here or what you want, but you need to go back to Whenever you came from, _fast_, or you're going to get us both killed."

Before Leo could respond at all, the girl cut him off. She grabbed Christopher by the elbow and turned him around. "You, focus. Incoming." Over her shoulder, she ordered Leo, "And you, however you were invisible before, do it, and don't make yourself seen again until I want you to."

While Leo obediently cloaked himself, Chris reached over to one of the potions tables and picked up four brightly colored vials he immediately recognized as one of Paige's specially concocted vanquishing potions. Chris kept two for himself and handed two over to the girl. The two kids exchanged apprehensive glances, obviously making sure they were both equally prepared. For what, Leo didn't know, and that was absolutely not acceptable to him.

"Whatever you two are up to, let me help."

"Shut up," the kids hissed in unison.

Again Leo did as told, although he wasn't entirely happy about it. The kids either didn't notice or didn't care what he did, so he went ahead and grabbed another vial of the vanquishing potion from the table for himself. He waited then, watching them while they fanned out over the distance of the attic. As they separated to their opposite corners (him to the windowseat, her to the attic door) her hands went up a few more times, freezing and unfreezing the room, from what Leo could tell. He couldn't be sure since he was freezing along with everything else. There were various hand signals and wiggled eyebrows, but so far as Leo could tell, nothing happened.

"Nothing," Christopher muttered after a moment of anticipatory silence. That didn't seem right to him. It never failed. The stupid alarms all over the house never failed to go off when he orbed something from two feet away, let alone repeated magical events. They should have gone off, and he should have sent someone by now. This wasn't right at all. In a heavy whisper he suggested, "Maybe the spell wasn't powerful enough to make him think it was an attack instead of only us messing around?"

"It was. Besides, I've frozen the room three times, blew up the squishy chair, _and_ cast a spell. They had to have gone off. Give him a — "

Before she could finish her thought, a demon shimmered into the attic, arms crossed over its chest and looking rather annoyed at having been ordered to babysit the boss's family. It glanced briefly at the girl, who smiled innocently. It turned to Chris and growled, "He wishes to know why the magic alarms for this house are going off. Have you been attacked, or are you just causing trouble again?"

"Causing trouble," she replied eagerly, innocent as could be.

"But nothing you're going to be able to tell him about," Chris informed the demon casually. "NOW!"

Her hands flew up, leaving Leo temporarily frozen once again. He didn't realize what had happened until he looked over in her direction. As he was coming back out of it, the demon was writhing in fiery agony until it finally convulsed and exploded into Oblivion, four broken bottles at its feet.

"That's one," she breathed at Chris, who nodded solemnly. She then turned back to Leo, clearly unhappy. She stomped across the room and snatched the vial out of his hand before it even occurred to him that she could see him again. She waved the small bottle in front of his eyes angrily. "We told you we could handle this. Do us a favor? _Don't_ help."

Confused, Leo asked, "You can see me?"

"Of course we can see you," she snapped. She set about the business of placing white candles around the circumference of one of the rugs as she explained to him, "While you were frozen, the spell I cast to make the other demon visible brought you back into sight, too."

"Other demon?" asked Leo, glancing between the two of them. "I only saw the one."

Equally unhappy, Christopher explained, "This time there was only the one. When he sends his demons to check on us, he usually sends two. One of them is always invisible to us. He thinks we don't know about them." _Not that I have the time to explain all of this to you_, he added to himself. Why did Leo have to pick today of all days to show up? Christopher had so many things he wanted to talk to his father about, but it was too late. He had a responsibility here. As much as he wanted to make their time stop so he could sit and talk to his father, he couldn't. He forced himself to look away from Leo to where his real responsibility was still doing her job, which he needed to be doing as well. He tried to act as if his father was no longer in the room. Softly, he asked, "Why would he only send the one this time?"

The girl's face screwed up quizzically, looking not at all unlike Paige when she was thinking out loud. Her hand gesture and shrugged shoulders only furthered the comparison in Leo's mind while she mused, "Because of the funeral, maybe?"

"You'd think he would send extras because of that," Christopher wondered out loud. "We're more likely to be attacked today than any other. We're going to be perceived to be our most vulnerable. Don't you think? But then he would have posted them around the house today if he was worried. It's like we said before, — "

"You know what?" she asked with a hint of irritation. "It doesn't matter. We've got," she glanced at the watch on her wrist, "ten minutes, tops, before he sends someone else. Ninety seconds before you have to reset the alarm or he's going to know Biltok didn't do it." She reached down onto the table again and grabbed two more candles. "We need to get Grams here before that damned thing clues him in. Hurry. Lighter."

Christopher dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small lighter, which he tossed over to her. With some difficulty, she tried to crouch down low enough to light the candles, but she was quickly caught in some sort of pain. She overbalanced and fell hard to the floor. Surprised, she hollered, "OW!"

Immediately, Christopher whipped around to her and held her shoulders to steady her. "What's wrong?"

"He can tell I'm upset, that's all," she said, placing a soothing hand on her stomach. "He's worried about us a little more than usual, I think."

"Which you two should be, too, from the sounds of it," Leo grumbled at the both of them, although they were far too easily distracted. Wanting desperately to help these kids get through this thing they had started without either of them getting hurt, Leo held his hand out to her. "Give it to me," he said, indicating the lighter. "You take care of her."

"We can take care of this. Just go. If he finds you here, it's only going to make it worse for all of us. Go."

"And leave you two to deal with this scheme you've got going, with her in her condition and you alone? I don't think so. Now you can either accept my help and let me get your great-grandmother here for you, or you can wait to see what happens when you aren't able to get things done in the time you've set for yourselves."

Softly, the girl told Chris, "I'm fine. Help him. You know he isn't going to leave, and he can't call Grams by himself."

"Are you sure?" Christopher asked her.

"Light 'em," she told Leo, who caught the tossed lighter with a lopsided grin. She squeezed Christopher's hand a little harder and ordered, "Help me up. I'll go get Charlie while you guys summon Grams." When Christopher had her standing on her own two feet with as little wobble as possible, she shoved him in the direction of The Book. She walked backwards toward the attic door, commanding along the way, "Make it fast."

Leo nodded and immediately set about the business of lighting the candles that circled the rug. He had to flick the lighter several times before the spark caught on. As he lit the first one, he looked up at Chris whipping furiously through The Book for a spell that Leo sneakingly felt was in his back pocket. As if Chris could feel his father looking at him, he glanced up to glare at Leo. "I'm only trying to help, Chris."

Christopher didn't linger, much as he wanted to. He couldn't. If he did, he would get lost again, and he couldn't do that. Things were in motion now. As soon as this was over, they would have to send Leo back anyway. The Book. The Spell. He had to concentrate on getting Grams. They needed Grams. Annoyed at the heartbreakingly terrible timing of this father-son reunion, Christopher ripped through a few more pages for distracted emphasis as he snapped, "What are you even doing here?"

"It's a long story." _One I hope I won't have to explain_, Leo added silently. "But the short version of it is that I — something happened recently to our family, and I needed to make sure you and your brother were okay."

Christopher snorted angrily. Things always happened to the family. There wasn't a day that went by that something didn't happen to the family. "Well, as you can see, something is happening to the family again. It may only be the three of us, but we're still a family, and we're kind of having a rough day around here, if you can't tell. But if this goes the way it's supposed to, we're going to remedy that in a hurry. So if you wouldn't mind working on getting those candles lit a little faster and then getting yourself back to Whenever it was you came from, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm not going to let your curiosity endanger either one of us or that baby any more than it's already done."

"_When_ever? That's the second time you've said that. Why?"

"Seeing as how you don't exactly exist in this time, you had to have come forward from some point past. It's not like you can just orb in from nowhere."

"In your future, I'm dead?"

Christopher stopped flipping pages in The Book long enough to look his father in the eye. Leo didn't like that look at all. It confirmed the answer to Leo's question before Chris even got the chance to say anything in response. It told Leo he had missed a lot in Chris's life for a reason even darker than the one he'd criticized him for before. Leo could see it: Chris had been without a father for a very, very long time. Sadly, he verbally got that answer as well when Chris said, "Look, Leo, Dad, you've been dead for nineteen years. You died the day after my sixth birthday."

"I really died?"

Christopher concentrated on The Book, unable to meet his father's disbelieving gaze. He was not having this conversation. He had been through the whole '_Future Consequences_' lecture so many times he could practically recite it word for word. Secretly he wondered if, maybe, he would be making things better if he told his father everything. Besides, he wasn't in the past yet. Leo had come to what, for him, was the future. Grams never gave them any rules about _that_. Maybe he wouldn't have spent most of his life without a father if he _accidentally_ told Leo what happened. He had to try, right? "Yeah. You were alone at the house with all of us kids when Darklighters attacked looking for Wyatt. Wyatt wasn't quite eight yet. It was bedtime, so the five of us were all running around in separate rooms when they came in. One of Phoebe's girls was hit by an arrow. You were able to heal her right away, but while you were, the Darklighters ganged up on you. You took three arrows to the back. Wyatt and I tried together to heal you, but there were too many arrows coming at us from everywhere. In the end, we were too small and weren't strong enough yet, not for that much poison."

Devastated, not by the future knowledge of his death, but by the thought that Chris had once again been without a father, Leo breathed, "I left you alone. Again. Chris, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not alone," Christopher argued, his unfallen tears dried, and with them the brief moment of connection with his father was gone. He wasn't alone. He didn't have a father, but that didn't mean he was alone. Damn it. He knew he shouldn't have tried to talk to Leo. This was doing nothing but distracting him. He needed to concentrate. He had responsibilities, and he'd made promises. _And miles to go before I sleep_, he reminded himself. He gestured out the door where she'd disappeared. He wasn't alone. "I have her."

"You're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just, from the talks you and I have had in the last . . . Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Your future is obviously different from the one that you told me about." Finishing with the last candle, Leo stood up. He tapped the lighter inside the palm of his hand, nervous. Chris apparently hadn't been listening because he didn't say anything at all. Instead he flipped more pages, leaving Leo standing there with nothing else to do. Looking for something, anything to say, he randomly picked the first thing that came to mind. Tentatively, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and asked, "So you two seem pretty close. Sister or cousin?"

"You don't know?" Chris rested both hands on the pages of The Book. "When exactly did you come from?"

"You're nine days old."

Chris looked at Leo like he was completely off his block. "That far back? Then I'm not going to tell you anything. No offense, but I like her too much to let you screw that up for us. You should know better than that. It could change the future if you know too much."

"Don't do that. You've been giving me that same song and dance for the last twenty months. Obviously, keeping things like that from us wasn't enough to change the future in either direction."

Christopher only gaped at his father in confusion. "Huh?"

"We never told you, did we? Well, I suppose we didn't. You asked us not to. Look, I can't explain it all right now, but suffice it to say that I know a lot more about your life than you think I do."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Leo couldn't help but laugh at himself as he juicily teased, "Can't tell you. Past information. It could screw up the future."

"Nice, Leo. Really nice."

"It's 'Dad', and it sucks when you aren't the one saying it, doesn't it?" A small personal victory won, Leo tried one last time to use the feeling against his son. "Will you at least tell me her name?"

"I can't. Future information," Chris snipped. "You already know far too much."

Leo threw his arms up in total frustration. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Deal with it." Chris slammed the cover of The Book shut with a cocked eyebrow. Moving to the fringe of the circle, he smoothed his hair down and tugged on his tie to straighten it back into a nice knot. He glanced sideways at Leo, told him to be quiet, and folded his hands neatly in front of himself.

_"Hear these words,  
Hear my cry,  
Spirit from the other side.  
Come to me, I summon thee,  
Cross now the Great Divide."_

A brilliant swirl of lights centered above the carpet until Penny appeared. Before she even finished settling into her form, she reached forward to embrace her great-grandson. "Christopher, my darling boy, I thought I would be hearing from you today."

"Hi, Grams," Christopher said, hugging his great-grandmother a little too tightly. He pulled back then, anxious. "I wish I had more time to talk, really I do, but we need your help, and we don't have a lot of time to do it."

"Anything for my great-grandchildren. You know that."

"Thanks." Christopher grinned with genuine gratitude. "This one is pretty big."

Penny stared at him with deep concern, seeming to know what the Big Thing was. "You're still planning to do it, aren't you? Even though your grandparents and I have both asked you not to?"

"Grams, I have to. If you three won't give me a good reason why I shouldn't want to save my brother, I don't see where the problem is. He wasn't meant to be like this — you know he wasn't — and I can't stand by doing nothing when he's got the world crumbling around our ears. So please, help me. You don't have to agree with me. Just help me."

While Chris waited for an answer, Leo's heart sank down through to his toes, chilling his spine along the way. What Chris had done the first time hadn't been enough. His son had died in vain. Leo's darkest imaginings were more than true, and now, here he was, caught up in the middle of them.

"Your mother would be very proud of you. Terrified, but very, very proud," Penny said by way of agreement, breaking into Leo's thoughts again. She breathed hard, and with her mind clearly made up that all she could do was help, she asked, "Have you picked a day yet?"

"There was a day a little less than ten months before I was born. They were attacked by a Darklighter the day of Wyatt's first birthday party. I think — "

As Leo began to panic at the thought that his son could quite possibly mess with his entire existence — again — he was thankfully given more time to figure out how to talk Chris out of going back to that day when the girl he was obviously so fond of came back into the room, trailed by a tall, dark haired man who looked to be not all that much older than the two kids he was (Leo guessed) guiding. Then again, Leo also knew he couldn't judge by that. He didn't exactly look his eighty-seven years either.

"Hi, Grams," the girl sang as she swept across the attic. Her arms extended excitedly as she skipped a little faster toward the now-corporealized ghost. "Thanks for coming."

A brief hug later, Penny pulled away with a rather unhappy look on her face. "Is there something you want to tell me, young lady?"

"Sorry?" The girl looked at her great-grandmother, confused. Penny gestured at the girl's stomach with an annoyed, pointed wave of her hand. The girl started and laughed. "Oh, right, sorry. Grams, you're going to be a great-great-grandmother. Uh, surprise?"

"You're only now telling me? The first of the new Halliwell generation is on the way, and I'm not the very first person you told?"

The girl gestured with an exasperated wave. "Hey, Christopher isn't done being mad yet. I can only handle one of you being cranky at me at a time."

"I'm not mad at you," Christopher seethed through his teeth. "Thanks a lot, Grams. I finally had her off that kick."

"Shush! You just go and reset the alarm before he gets suspicious," she playfully ordered. Turning her attention back to Penny, the girl picked up on Christopher's words and proudly announced, "He started kicking last week."

Penny didn't cover her wrinkle of distaste fast enough when the girl called her baby '_He_'. Her smile was certainly less excited as she asked, "Another boy?"

The girl giggled. "That's what he told me. Why?"

"Because Penny still hasn't forgiven Wyatt or Chris for being boys yet," Leo answered with an affectionate chuckle before anyone got the chance to say otherwise.

Finally noticing that the two kids weren't the only people in the room with her, Penny sputtered at her grandson-in-law's appearance. Clearly confused, she asked, "Uh, Leo? How did you . . . Oh, no."

"What?" He looked at Penny, who didn't seem to know what to do with him. Leo was quite positive that was the first time in his entire life he had actually seen Penny Halliwell speechless. "Is this because I'm supposedly dead by now?"

"Not just 'supposedly', and how do you know that?" Penny asked with immediacy, her eyes narrowing on her granddaughter's husband. "Leo?"

Christopher turned around from where he was quietly whispering some incantation to a corner of the wall and sheepishly raised a hand to surrender to his great-grandmother's wrath. "That was me. Sorry, Grams."

"Christopher, you know better. You should have sent him back to his own time the instant you saw him. Trust me when I tell you that your mother has been through enough chaos when it comes to time-travelling men in their lives. What if something happens to him before we're able to send him back?" Penny looked at the girl at the witch's side pointedly. "Things could be messed up more than they already are." She turned wickedly on Leo. "Let me guess. You're here from 2004, right after the baby was born?"

"How did you know?" Leo asked, surprised.

"Because if I remember correctly, while you're taking this little jaunt, Piper is summoning me to tell me about Chris." With a darker look, she emphasized, "The Other Chris." She must have felt the chill from Leo's blood freezing. Everyone else in the room seemed to, because all eyes fell on Leo. Penny softened at the deadened look in Leo's eyes. "This isn't him. Nothing you do is going to bring him back. The best thing you can do is go back and be there for the baby and Piper. You can't fix anything from here."

"I needed to make sure he was okay," said Leo, unable to look at Chris. This man was not him, not the one who had died only nine days ago. The timeline had changed too much for it to be otherwise. Part of him had known that before he had even come through the portal. Talking to Chris had certainly suggested so much, but Penny was doing him a favor now by driving it home. The son Leo was looking for was dead and would not be coming back.

"You can't help Chris, Leo. You have to go home and help Piper. She's hurting just as you are."

"I know."

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" The man who had come upstairs with the girl, who Leo guessed was probably this Charlie character he'd been hearing about, stepped into the middle of the group of Halliwells. He gestured at Leo suspiciously. "Who is this guy?"

Feeling Penny's glare, Leo looked down at his shoes. He knew better, even in this time, than to tick off Penny Halliwell. She may be dead, but she was a force to be reckoned with anyway. To the man he figured was Charlie, he said, "It doesn't matter. Penny's right. I need to get back to my own time, and these kids are going to need all of our help to do what they need to do." He looked hopefully at Chris, who looked back at him, waiting. "That is, if you'll let me help. I don't like this, but if you're going to do it, let me help."

Christopher looked back at his great-grandmother for approval. "He _is_ already here. It wouldn't hurt for us to have an extra hand around."

"This is your show, Christopher. You do what you think you need to do."

Thinking as he spoke, Christopher asked, "Leo? You came from 2004? And I was just born?"

"You're nine days old," Leo answered, accepting that this was the closest he was going to get to a request for help.

"Nine days? So, if I remember my family history correctly, you still have your powers, your Elder powers? The other Elders haven't stripped them yet?"

Leo nodded, unwilling to give away too much. _And I'll gladly use them if it keeps you safe_, Leo added to himself.

"Good. We may need them." With a crooked smile on his lips, Christopher extended his hand toward his father. "I'm also going to need the spell you ripped out of The Book when you got here."

"How did you know?" Leo blushed while he guiltily dug it out of his back pocket, even though everything in his heart told him not to admit to a single thing. If Chris didn't have the spell, he couldn't go back. If he couldn't go back, he couldn't end up dead like his future counterpart had. He just had to keep Chris here in the future. He had to. At the very least, he had to keep his son talking until he could figure out how to talk him out of his plan.

Christopher shrugged. "The Book still protects itself against evil, even without the Power of Three, so it wasn't like anything demonic could have ripped it out. The portal that brought you here didn't open while we were up here, which means you arrived sometime between when we left for the funeral and when we got back. So you had to be the one to take it."

That small issue resolved, Penny turned the topic back to where she had been originally cut off. "Christopher, you've picked out a date for the spell to work?"

"Oh, right." Christopher took the paper from Leo, letting it sit between their hands for a little bit longer than he might have if he had actually seen his father in the last nineteen years. As scared as he had been at first, he was seeing his father again. He couldn't be that mad, even if Leo was causing so much unwanted distraction at a really bad time. He kept his eyes on his dad for an extra beat before he looked back at his great-grandmother. "There was a day, Wyatt's first birthday party. They," he gestured at his father with a strange half-smile, "were attacked by a Darklighter. It was the next day that Dad went Up There and didn't come back for six months. I figure, if he hadn't been gone, they might have found out that the Elder from Magic School was trying to kill Wyatt sooner, and we'd be able to stop all of this." He glanced quickly at his father again, this time actually looking for help. "I need to know how to stop you from going Up There, and I need an idea of how to get rid of their Whitelighter. The sisters are more likely to trust me if I can be closer to them and Wyatt, and that means becoming their Whitelighter. If I can get in, I know I can pull it off."

"Don't you dare," Leo cut his son off dangerously, startling both Christopher and the girl with him. "You leave him alone. You can't take that time with him away from your mother and Phoebe and Paige — or from me. It wasn't his fault we didn't find Gideon. If anything, it was all of the work he did that finally led us to him. It wasn't my being gone that caused us not to find Gideon either. Don't you dare mess with that day. You're screwing with more than just Wyatt's future."

"Huh?"

With the outward flapping hand gesture that Paige had long ago nicknamed _Leo's Expository Jazz Hands_, he tried to explain as quickly as possible, "You'll be messing with your own future, Chris. It was because of that Darklighter that you were even born."

"Again: huh?"

"Your mom and I were trapped in the Spirit Realm shortly after your brother's party. We were being tracked by a Darklighter who was trying to get me out of the way, which, if you think about it, he did. It was because of that attack that I decided I was risking my family's safety too much and tried to be a full-time Elder like They wanted. I'm still trying to find out if it was Gideon who set that one up, too. All of the gory details aside, your mom and I — we thought I was going to die and so we . . . made up — for a lot of things . . . that night. If we hadn't, you wouldn't be here."

"Crisis sex? I was born because you and Mom had a bout of crisis sex?"

"It wasn't like that." Leo added to himself, _You didn't seem to mind before_. But then, that was a different Chris and a different time now. That Chris had simply been happy exist again. This Chris, he never knew any of that. He didn't need to either. "The point is you can't mess with that day or any other day until the day you were born because I can't let you take that time with him away from us."

"Time with who?"

"It doesn't matter. Look, I know I haven't been around for you and that you don't need me to tell you what to do, but I'm asking you anyway. Stop this now. Don't go back at all. You didn't know about that, and you probably don't know anything about a lot of things that happened in the year and a half before you were born. You don't understand what could happen if you change things."

"Don't," Penny warned. "You could make things even worse."

_My son has just been murdered by the man I trusted the most with my family. It doesn't get any worse than that_, Leo thought angrily, but controlled himself from actually it saying out loud. Instead, the Elder (not for much longer, but he was still one at the moment, by God) completely ignored the dead woman's pleas. He focused everything he had on his son, willing him to truly hear him this once. "If you go, you might not — "

Christopher stepped back from his father, angry and confused. "What is this? What happened to _whatever you two are up to, let me help_? Grandpa tried to get me to promise I wouldn't go back, too. She's been begging us not to do this since we first brought it up. Same with Grandma. Why? What are you guys not telling us?"

"Leo," Grams warned him again.

Leo's eyes flared at her, desperate. "I won't let him go back just to have him die again. I can't do it."

"What do you mean, _again_? I'm not going to die," said Chris firmly, although he was clearly thrown by the talk going on around him. He looked quickly at his girl, who was looking very unsure of his reassurances. To her specifically he said, "I'm _not_." To his dearly deceased relatives he said strongly, "You can both stop talking about me like I'm not here and just deal. My family needs me. I promised that little baby over there that he wasn't coming into this world the way it is, and I intend to keep that promise. You can either help us, or you can both get out of my way."

"The hell with the rules, huh?" Grams mused. She punched Leo in the arm, hard but affectionately. "He really is your son, isn't he?" She didn't wait for an answer from her grandson-in-law, but instead turned to his son. "What do you need, Christopher?"

"How much time do we have?"

The girl nodded at her watch. "Two minutes, tops."

Switching back into mission mode, Christopher started doling out the assignments in quick succession, needing to cover all of the ground they had wasted in arguing with his father and great-grandmother. "Okay, Charlie, I want you by the potions table. If he shows up once the next sentry comes to check on us and leaves to report to him, he's coming with at least three demons to take his hits for him. Throw whatever you can at them as fast as you can. Blow them up, give them hives, set them on fire. Do whatever you have to do to keep them busy and unable to get at us."

Charlie looked down at the girl at his side, the mother of his child, with a worried smile. Leo saw him reach for her hand and squeeze it hard as he said, "Nothing's getting by me."

An almost brotherly threat accompanied Chris's handshake with his Whitelighter. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Charlie. I mean it."

The look that passed between the three of them was not lost on either Leo or Penny. She, however, wasn't going to stay as quiet about it as Leo was. Somewhere in the middle of her ever-reliable, anti-male handbag of insults, Penny found it in her to sputter, "You? You're the one responsible for my great-granddaughter's condition? I swear, I thought you knew better than to get involved with a Whitelighter, — "

"No names, Grams," Chris jumped in before she could get any further with her attack. With a pointed look at Leo, he added, "He doesn't know who she is or which sister she belongs to, so it's probably better if we keep it that way. The first time the sisters went to the future, Piper saw a future with her and Leo divorced with a little girl named Melinda, and we all know how that one worked out."

"They spent Wyatt's entire pregnancy thinking he was going to be a girl because of it." The girl snapped her fingers with the realization of a mock-epiphany. "_That_ must have been what turned him evil! He was traumatized by being called Melinda for nine months."

"And, no offense, Ms. Halliwell, but we've been lectured more than enough," Charlie chimed in with a pointed look at Chris before he turned to the entire group. "So let's keep _this_ boy safe, shall we? What else do you need, Christopher?"

Leo decided that, despite the obvious reasons why he shouldn't like the guy, he still liked his son's Whitelighter. He knew how to handle a Halliwell. Penny, too, looked on the angel with admiration and approval. The two of them stood anxiously awaiting their orders. Penny was obviously pleased her instructions would be saved for last and most important as Chris turned on his father next.

"Leo — Dad — since you're here, we're going to need the extra fire power, but we need you to be invisible. If you could just take out whatever demons you can and keep them distracted, away from where we open the portal, that would be great. As long as you're invisible, they won't be able to see you to fire back. Once we're gone, it should be clear for you to get back to your own time, too. Wyatt hates this house. He won't stay in it if he doesn't have to."

The two of them looked at each other as Leo silently agreed to the plan without actually agreeing to the plan. While they were busy having a father-son moment, the girl looked at her watch again, and with a dreading immediacy announced that they had thirty seconds to kill, if they were lucky. Leo saw the reluctance in his son's eyes as he turned them away and handed the piece of paper from inside The Book of Shadows over to his great-grandmother.

"We're going to need you to open the portal, Grams. If he shows up in the middle of this, you're the only one he can't accidentally kill. If you stay within the confines of the candles and, you know, see-through, you'll be safe from everything that comes through here."

"Twenty seconds," the girl announced.

With that, Penny pulled the two kids to her in a big but all too brief hug. "Be careful, my darlings. I love you both."

"We love you, too, Grams," said Christopher into her shoulder.

"Thank you, Grams, for everything," the girl said into the other shoulder.

As they separated, the girl went to hug their Whitelighter and Chris came to his father. Awkwardly he said, "I don't know why you're here, but it was really nice to see you again. I've really missed you, Dad."

"I love you, too," Leo said, afraid to actually say anything more or less than that. Any other words failed him.

Chris must have seen something in his father's eyes that he didn't want to know because the boy quickly turned away from Leo, walked over to the girl, and pulled her close to him. He whispered down into her ear something completely inaudible to anyone but the two of them. Together their heads looked up and at the people with them. They smiled gratefully at everyone as they backed a little further away, turning off everything but some battle mode they had together.

She whispered her count off of the five second mark as Chris watched his father with regret while Leo cloaked himself from all eyes again. Leo felt the sad sigh in Chris's heart in his own. This was not how this trip to the future was supposed to go. Nothing about the future was the way it was supposed to be.

"Stay close to me," Chris ordered her again, breaking into Leo's worries.

"Wait for it," she said, her eyes widening in search of the thing that would be coming for her and Chris next.

Then, as if right on the predicted cue, a beautiful young woman in body-hugging leather shimmered into the room. She held some sort of knife out in preparation to attack something that her dark eyes flashed around the room searching for. After a moment, she relaxed her grip on the weapon and grinned in greeting at the two kids as if they were old friends. Leo didn't like the look of her, but Chris apparently did — maybe it was the leather; Leo had never understood the attraction to leather — because he crossed over to her and met her lips in an incredibly friendly kiss. There was something darkly familiar about her, but unable to figure them out, Leo looked in time to see the girl roll her eyes sky high with distaste.

"I hate to interrupt, but what do you want, Bianca?" she snapped in a stage whisper over Chris's shoulder. Even though the kids had expected this new visitor, she clearly wasn't happy with the visitor being this woman. "We're kind of having a family thing today and would rather not have to deal with outsiders, if you know what I mean."

_Bianca?_ That woman was Bianca? No wonder Leo didn't like her. She was the one responsible for Chris nearly dying from that chest wound a year ago. Even if she had been Chris's fiancée at one time or another, Leo was not in the least bit happy to know she was still clawing her way into his son's life. It was a good thing she couldn't see the look on his face because it would have burned her soul to a crisp.

The phoenix backed away from Chris, annoyed at being interrupted. She huffily slapped a hand on her leather-clad hip and glared. "He wants to know why Biltok hasn't returned from his visit to you," Bianca cooed, the perfectly manicured index finger of her other hand tracing down the length of Chris's arm as she spoke. "He thinks the two of you are up to something. Are you?"

Chris gently but definitively pulled the woman's hand away from his body. "He came. He reactivated the alarm. He left. Anything that happened between here and there is entirely out of our hands."

"That's all?" asked Bianca, clearly not believing Chris, no matter what kind of eyes he made at her.

Together, the two kids chimed, "That's all."

"Then what's _she_ doing here," Bianca asked suspiciously, gesturing at Grams in her candled sanctuary, who scoffed in offense at the woman's attitude toward her great-grandchildren.

"Not that it's any of your business," the girl snapped in return, holding a hand back to steady her dearly deceased Grams from advancing out of the candle circle. "But we called Grams because we wanted to make sure Grandpa was okay. We haven't told her about the baby yet either, so we thought she should know. I froze the room a few times because I just couldn't deal with the condolences any more. My grandfather is dead, and I needed some air. That's all — not that I need your permission. I don't need your permission to do anything."

Shaking her long dark head, Bianca barked, "Fine. I'll tell him that, but I don't think he'll believe me any more than I believe you. So whatever you two are up to, you better come up with something better than this."

"We aren't up to anything, I swear." Chris added rather flirtatiously, "Would I lie to you?"

She didn't answer him, but her demeanor definitely relaxed a little at the gesture. "I'm sorry about your grandfather. I've heard he was a pretty good guy. He's going to be by later to pay his respects."

"Why?" the girl snapped. "He couldn't care less."

"You better go," Chris said to Bianca, getting in between the two women. "You'll upset her, which means you'll upset the baby. Not today, okay? We both have enough to deal with today. Besides, he'll freak out if you don't get back to him right away."

Bianca sidled up just a little closer to Chris and wrapped her hands around his neck. She pulled his head down to plant a deep, passionate kiss on him that made everyone, seen and unseen, turn away. When she released him, he cleared his throat with surprise. She winked at him and turned to glare at the girl. Her comment was directed at Chris, though, as she cooed, "I'll see you later."

"'Bye," Chris told her.

"Yeah, 'bye. Oh, and Bianca?" Before she could respond to the girl, a vial of vanquishing potion exploded at her feet. Unlike the other demon from earlier, the woman's body collapsed into a field of sputtering pieces, not entirely unlike black orbs, and circled around out the window. As the pieces fluttered away, the girl called out to them, "Don't get lost on your way back to your kennel, bitch!"

Chris looked amused but definitely annoyed. "Why do you have to blow her up every single time you see her? It only makes the both of them mad."

"_That_ is between me and the sisters," she replied, looking and sounding quite satisfied with herself. She glanced over at where she had last seen Leo, who snickered. She hooked a thumb in the general direction of the sound and said, "And him, too, apparently. Frankly, I don't care if I make her mad. She deserves it. If he doesn't like it, that's just too bad, too. If she's that important to him — "

"Don't finish that thought," Chris warned her. He quickly looked back at Charlie, who he apparently knew without even asking had orbed the vial into her hand behind her back. "Why do you encourage her? Aren't you supposed to be a pacifist like the rest of us?"

"Because he loves me more than he loves you," the girl beamed at Chris. "All I'm saying is I don't get what you see in her. You deserve better." She then glanced at her watch and turned darkly on everyone in the room. "Okay, let's do this, people. We have a portal to catch, and it's leaving the station in less than ninety seconds."

Christopher put a hand on her back and steered her around the sofa toward the chalk drawing on the attic wall that had served as the family's portal wall for more years than any of them cared to think about. On the way, Christopher grabbed his suit jacket and shrugged it back on while she grabbed a backpack in each hand from the floor. When they reached the wall, Christopher took one of the packs from her before they turned around to face everyone in the room one last time. Hand in hand, they beamed lovingly at all of their partners in crime, tears in both their eyes.

"Thank you," said Chris while she nodded in agreement next to him. He took in a deep breath and gestured to the ghostly family matriarch. "Grams?"

"Of course, my darling," she agreed. The two kids turned toward the wall as Penny began to recite the spell.

"_Hear these words, hear my rhy- — "_

"WAIT!" Leo hollered and ran forward, grabbing both kids around the biceps. When they were facing him, he was quite visible to them again, hoping they would see the desperation in his eyes. "Don't do this! Please?"

A spark of that defiant hate that Leo had been so familiar with from his son flared in the boy's eyes. His movements were cold, almost completely opposite from the gentle, loving way he had been with the woman at his side. Christopher looked Leo up and down, hard, and said, "No offense or anything, but you haven't exactly been a factor for us for a long, long time. We've made plenty decisions without you, just as big as this one, and we're going to spend the rest of our lives making decisions without you. If you wanted to have so much input on things, then maybe you shouldn't have gotten yourself killed when we needed you the most. You're my dad and I love you, but I had to figure out how to live my life without a dad a long time ago. That doesn't change because you pop on in with a portal for an afternoon."

"Chris, listen to me," Leo pleaded.

"Leo, I'm warning you. Don't do this," Penny snappishly advised. "You've already said more than you should."

"Back off, Penny," he snarled and turned back to his son. He scrambled for the words, speaking as fast as he could before he could be cut off again. "Screw the rules. Listen to me, Chris. We aren't dealing with Time Travel rules. We're talking about family rules, and it's apparently time that this rule was broken. You need to understand: you've already come back. You asked us not to tell you as you were growing up. You already came back and tried to save Wyatt."

Penny started forward, only to be held back by a hand gesture from her great-grandson. She relented her charge, only because she knew it was Chris asking her. She could see that Chris was listening to his father, though, which was the last thing they needed to happen at the moment. "Leo, stop! It's too late. He's going."

Leo, however, wasn't listening to anyone or anything but that damned Jiminy Crickett in his head telling him that he was doing the right thing by saving his son from repeating his own past mistakes. He couldn't risk his son's entire existence just because the kid was as stubborn as he was. They'd find a way to fix everything else later. "That Whitelighter that you were talking about getting out of your way just a few minutes ago? That's you! You had already moved me out of the way so you could become their Whitelighter. None of us knew who you were for almost ten months, but you were there trying to save your brother."

"Leo! Think about what you're doing. You can't — "

"But you obviously didn't save your brother if you're planning to do this now. More importantly, you couldn't save yourself."

"LEO, DAMN IT! THINK!" Penny huffed in exasperation, arms thrown up in the air. "He asked you not to tell him. He asked you _not_ to tell him about Wyatt or coming back from the future. No one told him, Leo, yet he _still_ came to the same conclusion anyway. So get out of the way. Maybe he can do it right this time."

Firmly, Christopher backed away and stood closer to the wall where the triquetra drawing waited. He took the girl's hand again, his stance defiant, his mind more than made up. "He's my brother, my responsibility. If I learned anything from growing up in this family, it's that there is nothing more important than helping family. No matter what he's done, we're going through that portal. You don't have a say in this, Dad."

"Chris, don't. Please."

Defiantly, Christopher ordered, "Go ahead, Grams."

While they were busy yelling at one another, they were all too busy to notice the flak of black smoke in the corner of the room that materialized into a Darklighter. They were so busy, in fact, that none of them saw the black arrow speed through the room from the windowseat to tear into the girl's shoulder and pin her into the attic wall.

Both of the kids screamed in agony, her from the pain in her shoulder and Chris in fear. Without even thinking about it, Charlie darted across the distance between himself and his charges. When he reached them, both his hand and Chris's went up to grasp for the arrow to try to pull it out of her but was cut short when Leo jumped in and caught their hands.

"You can't touch it," Leo instructed, even though he was sure that they both knew that anyway. "Charlie, get back into position. Hurry."

"So I'm just supposed to leave her skewered into the wall?" Chris sputtered incredulously as Charlie walked backwards until he ran into the potions table, shaking his head angrily at Leo. The two of them shared a look as together they echoed, "Are you insane?"

"I'll get it," Penny volunteered, stomping out of the protective shield of the candles unnoticed. Under her breath, she mumbled, "This is what happens when you try things with only Whitelighter blood in the house."

Before the ghost could get to her great-granddaughter, the girl stopped them all with a breathy hiss. "Behind you."

Chris and Leo both whirled around, Chris very carefully placing himself between her body and anything else that moved. Leo felt his son tense even further when a new body orbed into the attic in front of them. He could see Charlie tense as well, his hands reaching for multiple brightly colored vanquishing potions. At the sight of the dark blue orbs, the Darklighter seemed to shrink. Leo quickly cloaked himself again, not wanting to tip off the new threat until he knew for certain that he could be more helpful to his son (_and niece?_) by being seen. While the orbs took the solid form of a young blond man in his probably mid-twenties, the Darklighter convulsed a few times before internally combusting without being touched at all. Its entire being hiccuped three or four times before exploding outward in a burst of flames.

Seemingly satisfied with himself, the blond man turned toward the group that surrounded the girl pinned to the wall. He centered his attention on Chris, crossed his arms over his chest, and demanded an answer. "Christopher? Care to explain what the hell is going on here?"

"Wyatt." Chris took one step back, obscuring the girl and their frantically working great-grandmother from a clear view of the new arrival. With the most ugly tone Leo had ever heard from Chris, the boy snarled angrily, "You sent a Darklighter after us? _Today_?"

Glancing back at the spot where the Darklighter had appeared, tried to reload, and been vanquished, the blond man said quite calmly, "He wasn't one of mine. I didn't send him."

As the two of them faced off, a second puff of blackness appeared in the dark of the corner behind the door. Before anyone saw it coming, a black Darklighter arrow slammed with a sickening thud into Charlie's chest and knocked him to the ground.

"_That_ one was mine," the blond man said plainly.

Another Darklighter and a robed demon appeared in the room, carefully placing themselves between the man and the small band of rebels. Immediately, Chris focused his attention on the potions table that Charlie was no longer able to reach and located several vanquishing potions. He concentrated on them, willing them to zip across the room and make contact with the threats, but he didn't get to them quite fast enough. As he watched helplessly, every single bottle, vial, bowl, and jar exploded on the tabletop, sending Charlie into a blissful unconsciousness away from the pain of the Darklighter arrow in his chest. Chris's heart sank as their only weapons disappeared right before his eyes.

Leo's heart sank, too. That was Wyatt? The cold, nearly inhuman person in front of him was exactly what he had imagined and oh so much more. How, when he had such an amazing mother and all of the love his family could give him, could he end up standing here like this, viciously trapping his brother in a corner?

Christopher, however, wasn't anywhere near as concerned about Wyatt as he was with everyone else. With Charlie down and the one person he truly needed in all of this pegged into the wall, they were down four to three. But still, at least they had the element of surprise in Leo. Even Wyatt couldn't possibly know Leo was in the room, not really.

As if knowing his son was thinking of and counting on him, Leo sprang into action. While the distraction of the exploded potions still burned and the brothers glared at one another, Leo took careful aim. He hadn't exactly learned to control this power of his. He had only used it the day Chris had died and during a few random moments of frustration during his nightly hunts for Barbas. But then, he figured those moments alone had focused him enough. With angry precision, Leo let burst energy bolts from his hands, sending them into first the two Darklighters and then the demon. The three of them were all dust before anyone knew what was coming at them.

What was coming at Leo was a flash of anger from his firstborn, who waved a hand in the direction of the bolts. The next thing Leo knew, he was flying off the floor, high up into the rafters. The jolt to his head threw his balance of concentration off so that when he landed down on the ground again, hard, he was no longer a mystery to his eldest son. Wyatt, in fact, didn't seem surprised at all to see his father lying there on the floor.

"Hi, Dad," Wyatt called chipperly, reminding Leo of a creepy Christopher Walken movie he'd seen once.

"Wyatt," Leo muttered in disbelief, shaking his head to get the ringing out of his ears.

"Bet you didn't think I'd know you were the one behind the energy bolts, did you?" The man walked over to stand over his father and telekinetically helped him to stand up so they could meet eye to eye. "I figured you were going to show up here in the future at some point. After all, since Gideon took me, I'm sure you had to know for sure what happened to me in the future, make sure I wasn't evil or anything, right?" When Leo only glared at his son in angered confusion, Wyatt told him condescendingly, "You know, you really should listen to Phoebe when she tells you she can't keep a secret. She warned everyone, yet you always told her anyway. I have to give her credit, though. I never would have remembered Gideon at all if it hadn't been for dear Aunt Phoebe."

"She told you about that?"

"Well, she kind of had to, but the details of why don't really matter. What matters is that Christopher isn't going back, not this time. I'm perfectly happy being me, and I am not about to let him ruin that for me."

Angrily, Wyatt turned his focus away from his father and over to his little brother, who was quietly standing against the wall with their great-grandmother while she tried frantically to free the girl from the wall. Penny was quietly whispering the incantation that would allow the portal they needed to escape to the past to open.

Seeing them, Wyatt growled in fury. He raised his hand and snapped, "Sorry, Penny. Your services are no longer needed." With a sharp wave of his hand, the corporeal lady was smacked hard across the room into her circle of candles. The force of it sent the small realm of light into a burst. The family matriarch and the entire circle exploded into a bright white light.

"GRAMS!" Chris yelled.

"Oh, she's fine," Wyatt snapped. "But you, you get your ass away from that wall, Christopher, and tell me what the hell you think you're accomplishing here because at the moment, I'm thinking you are about to betray me."

"I'm not betraying you, Wyatt," Chris said defensively. He held on to the girl with him, trying to hold her up against the pressure of the arrow that still held her into the wall. "We aren't. I don't know what you guys are talking about. We're just trying to get Dad back to his own time. The spell that brought him here isn't in The Book anymore, so we called Grams to help us. We can't get him — "

"If you really expect me to believe that, Christopher, I — "

Wyatt's threat remained unfinished. He was too busy looking for Christopher to actually say anything. While Wyatt had been busy sending his great-grandmother back to the Spirit Realm, Leo had used the distraction to cloak himself once again. He had tiptoed across the room, carefully avoiding that loose floorboard, and reached Chris. As soon as he got close enough, he reached his arm over to his son and cloaked him as well. He didn't have to say anything by way of warning because Chris felt nothing more than an odd, tingly sensation from head to toe as his body disappeared from sight. What he did feel was a strong yank on his arm, pulling him away from the wall and across the room in the opposite direction of where Wyatt was charging the wall.

Father and Son ducked behind the sofa with Leo bobbing up and down occasionally to lob energy bolts in random directions to distract Wyatt from his location. During one of his times of shelter, Leo dug into his pocket and brought out the bottle of potion for the time portal he'd used to bring himself here. He felt for Chris's arm and placed it hard into his son's hand, knowing he couldn't just let the boy stay here in the future, not when his homicidal brother knew they'd had been plotting against him. That would be suicide.

To Chris, Leo instructed in a low whisper, "It's the reversal of the potion I used to get here. Get as close to the wall as you can before you toss this at it, then go through as fast as you can. I'll keep him distracted until you can get through." Leo popped up and sent another bolt of energy across the room, exploding an entire rack of potions that really should not have been mixed together. When he came back down, he continued. "When you get out on the other end, it's going to take you to the attic. As soon as you get there, orb to the top of the Golden Gate bridge and wait for me there. Don't go anywhere else. You won't have your powers, so you'll be unprotected until I can get there. You'll be safe on the bridge. Until then, if you should run into any of them, do not talk to your mother or your aunts, especially Paige. I can't explain why to you right now, and I'm sure you've probably guessed some of it by now, but when I get back, I will tell you everything."

"How will you get back?" Christopher asked, his eyes darting between the vial in his hands and where he thought his father's head was.

"The spell you were going to use should get me back just fine."

"But you're not a witch, Dad. You can't."

"No, but I'm guessing _she_ can, once I heal her, anyway," Leo said, indicating the girl, forgetting that Chris couldn't see him do so. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, Wyatt knows he has to let me go back. Too much of this precious future of his will be changed if he doesn't. He doesn't want to risk anything changing at all. I just have to get you back before I make myself seen to him again."

"What about her?" Chris nodded in the direction of the girl who was still helplessly pinned into the attic wall, him too forgetting that his father couldn't see his movement anyway. "Dad, I'm not going without her, not now. If I leave her here, Wyatt will — "

"We'll catch up with you as soon as we get Wyatt out of the way. Don't worry. It will be okay, but I need you to do this, for all of you."

"Fine, but be careful. He won't kill her, but he will have no problem making her suffer — or you, if he finds you."

Again Leo popped up and sent another energy bolt, which missed and went through the stained glass window of the windowseat. When he came back down, he reassured his son. "We're going to be fine. Just go. Meet me at the bridge."

"Dad, I — "

"Go, Chris. We'll be right behind you. Go."

Needing no other encouragement, Chris took off running, seeing one of Wyatt's dark blue energy balls fly just a little too close to his head. It was enough to make Wyatt look in the opposite direction of where he was running. The closer he got to the wall, the harder he had to concentrate on not looking away from the triquetra drawing. It was all he could do to keep his sights there and not at the wounded around him. He had to get through. His father was giving him the chance he needed, and he needed to take advantage of it while he could. When he was barely a foot away, he chucked the vial hard and fast into the wall, opening the portal to a feral scream from his brother. Chris was grateful he couldn't see anything going on behind him as he leapt into the portal to dodge an energy ball from his brother's hand.

And just like that, Chris was gone.

Wyatt fumed as the triquetra portal slacked back into a simple chalk outline on the wall. With one hand he lobbed energy ball after useless energy ball into the wall, futilely chasing them after a brother who was no longer there to attack. He finally gave up on Christopher with a redirected anger, which he turned on the girl. As his one hand tightened on nothing but air to cut off the oxygen supply to the now conscious and gasping Whitelighter Charlie, the other gripped hard on the girl's hair until she couldn't hold her yelp in any longer. When he heard her, he quickly whipped his head around to face her, eye to eye. Growling in fury, he demanded, "What did you two do?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. You weren't just trying to get Leo back."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, which were noticeably dulling over from the arrow that was still trapping her to the attic wall. Still, even though it was obviously taking a lot of energy for her to argue with the man, she visibly steeled herself and instead ordered, "Let me down, Wyatt."

"Not until you tell me what's going on." With Charlie again an unconscious heap on the floor, Wyatt reached his free hand over until it was parallel with the arrow, and with a little telekinetic burst snapped the arrow in the girl's shoulder right at the point where flesh and wood met. The shaft splintered, leaving pieces of black wood in her skin as it snapped upward, cutting even further into her. The girl bit back her scream, though, which only served to make Wyatt even more furious. "_What did you do_?"

She only glared at him until she was unable to hold her own head up any longer. Her eyes slowly started to close as she tried to nod her head back into position a few times. Helpless against the pain, her entire body started to give in. The pressure on the stub of an arrow grew as she slowly collapsed against it. Even the pain of it wasn't enough to bring her back to full consciousness. The sight of it made Leo sick.

What made Leo even sicker was knowing that the man standing there patiently watching as this happened was his son, his Wyatt. Chris hadn't even begun to tell them all just how awful his brother had grown up to be. It was the first time Leo realized he was actually grateful for one of Chris's factual omissions. This evil sonofabitch in front of him barely resembled something human in feeling. There was nothing there, nothing compassionate at all. Still, if Chris believed his brother could be saved, maybe what he needed was for his father to get through to him. He had to try.

"Wyatt, she's dying. Get her down."

The man turned around to look at where he guessed his father to be standing, a crooked grin on his face. "Then she can tell me what she and Christopher were up to. She can come down as soon as she tells me."

"She isn't going to be able to tell you anything like that," Leo protested, gesturing at the quickly fading girl. Without even realizing he was doing it, Leo offered the man a tradeoff. "Look at her, Wyatt. She can't even keep her own head up. Just get her down and let me heal her. She'll tell you then. Keeping their plan a secret isn't worth losing her baby. I know it. Just let me talk to her."

"You? Talk to her?" Wyatt actually laughed, and it wasn't a laugh that Leo ever wanted to hear again. It was so terribly cold. The laugh continued up through his cold blue eyes as Wyatt went on. "_Dad_, she doesn't even know you! You certainly don't know her. What makes you think you can talk to her at all?"

"She isn't you," Leo retorted, sensing that what Wyatt was saying was really about what he felt, not about what she may or may not feel. Leo knew; he had seen the way the other two kids looked at him. They were annoyed with his presence, but that was because they were in the middle of executing something that could get them both killed. Leo understood that now. There had been something else in their eyes, though, both of them. They had been happy to see him. He knew it. He could get through to her. He could save her. He could save _something_ from the future, anyway. "You don't know what she wants."

Again Wyatt laughed, but this time it was confused. "And you think you do? I bet you don't even know her name!"

Stung by the reality of his son's statement, but certainly not about to let it steer him away from helping the poor girl, Leo growled angrily, "Get her down, Wyatt. Now."

"Show yourself."

"What?"

"I'm not doing a thing until I can see where you are. It's not an advantage that I'm willing to give you right now," said Wyatt plainly. "Now show yourself, or I kill her."

Even though Chris had told him Wyatt wouldn't kill her, Leo didn't want to take any chances. If he was going to be negotiating with his son at all, he would have to give Wyatt something. As he revealed his position, he didn't like the sneer that crawled over his adult son's face.

Wyatt laughed at his father's weakness. "It's no wonder this family is extinct except for the three of us — well, two of us. She's not going to last much longer."

Leo's sickness turned into strength, an uncontrollable urge to fight for an innocent. In the last few months, he had forgotten what it was like to think about anyone other than his sons or his wife and her sisters. This girl was family, certainly, but Wyatt was right. He _didn't_ know her, but she needed him. It felt good to want to do something right again. He felt himself straighten as he took very cautious steps toward the man that he didn't want to think was his son. "Don't. Please, I know this isn't you. It can't be you. I know your mother and I would not raise you to be this way."

"What is it with everyone in this family thinking that I'm not me? I am perfectly capable of making decisions for myself. Newsflash, Leo: Gideon didn't do anything to me. No demon or warlock or any other magical creature you want to come up with did anything to me. I'm not _Evil_. I haven't been turned to the Dark Side. I'm not psychotic or any of these things that you all seem so afraid I am. I'm just me, Dad. I'm powerful, more powerful than anyone ever imagined I would be. That doesn't make me evil. You all need to get with that. Power doesn't mean evil because there is no Good or Evil. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

"Fine. All right? You're not evil. We have all missed the point, and we don't know you at all. That's great. Will you let her down now please?"

Surprisingly, Wyatt actually orbed what was left of the Darklighter arrow out of the girl's shoulder and let her slip to the ground. She hit her head hard on the wall behind her, jolting her back to awareness. Before Leo could make the move over to her to help her away from Wyatt, the younger man reached down and yanked her up by the same arm where the arrow had been. She whimpered in pain, causing Wyatt to roll his eyes. "Suck it up," he told her.

"Let me heal her. We can talk all you want, and we'll figure this out. Just let me — "

"No, Dad, I don't think I will." Wyatt didn't say anything for another beat before he sucked in a breath and completed his thought. "I think you are going to go back to your time. I think you're going to get Christopher, and you're going to bring the little Benedict Arnold back here to me. When my brother is back home safely, then you can heal her, and we can have that little father-son talk until we're both blue in the face."

"She can't wait that long, and you know it," Leo argued, disgusted.

"So you should probably get going, then, huh?"

Leo didn't move. He couldn't leave her there like that, no way. Though he knew for certain that Wyatt still had been turned, he also couldn't ignore the opportunity that Chris's return would bring him. They had another chance to save Wyatt. He couldn't waste it, not yet. Not again. "I can't leave until I know you aren't going to hurt her."

"We'll be fine, Leo. You don't need to worry about anything but getting Christopher back here. Do that, and she'll be fine. In fact, I can guarantee you she won't be out of my sight." Wyatt glared down at the girl, who stood her ground and didn't back away. "I won't have you in this house where I can't keep an eye on you anymore. You're coming back with me."

Bravely, the girl replied, "Not in this lifetime."

"You don't have a choice." Wyatt reached down and grabbed the girl's other wrist hard enough for her to moan against her teeth in pain. He pulled her close so that she was partially shielding his body from Leo. Both of her arms now crossed her chest, preventing her from moving away from Wyatt at all. Even as she struggled, Wyatt ignored her. "I mean it, Leo. Stop Christopher and send him back here before he changes anything, or I _will_ kill her. Believe me when I tell you that if you don't tell him and he finds out, Christopher will never forgive you if anything happens to her."

"Wyatt — "

The son ignored his father's pleas without any further care. He pulled hard on the girl's hair once again, snapping her ear back to meet his mouth. Casually but with undeniable menace, he ordered her, "Get him out of here."

With one last look of terror in her eyes, the girl bowed her head, unable to look at Leo any longer. She closed her eyes, thinking, until she tearfully whispered in rhyme.

_"Send him back through Space and Time.  
He found the answers he came to find.  
Do not delay — send him fast  
To the very same day in his past."_

"Get out of here, Leo, before I change my mind," Wyatt ordered as the portal opened.

Leo slowly backed away from his son and his shield, never taking his eyes off her as he neared the portal. She tried to smile at him but only succeeded in letting the tears fall from her reddening eyes. He grinned back, and as he set his first foot through the portal, he whispered to her, "I will be back for you. Just hold on. We will be back for you."

With that, Leo turned and put his second foot through the portal and waited for the headsickness that would carry him back home.

(End Part Two)


	3. Broken Hearts Can't Keep Time

**Chapter Three  
Broken Hearts Can't Keep Time**

**I.**

" . . . _And when her wedding with the Prince was appointed to be held the false sisters came, hoping to curry favor, and to take part in the festivities. So as the bridal procession went to the church, the eldest walked on the right side and the younger on the left, and the pigeons picked out an eye of each of them. And as they returned the elder was on the left side and the younger one on the right, and the pigeons picked out the other eye of each of them. And so they were condemned to go blind for the rest of their days because of their wickedness and falsehood._"

Paige closed the book of fairy tales with a huff. She looked down at the two boys who were her captive audience and screwed up her face at them. "Okay. That was gross." When the boys both looked back at her without a sound, waiting for her to make a point, she suspiciously eyed her eldest nephew. "You didn't like that one _too_ much, did you?"

"Paige!"

The youngest of the Halliwell sisters jumped at the sound of the voice behind her, turning to glare at the former youngest known sister. Not understanding what could possibly have given Phoebe (who was _supposed_ to be upstairs taking a nap) a reason to shriek like that, Paige griped with annoyance, "_What?_"

Phoebe was gesturing wildly at the two boys lying on the floor in front of the sofa with near-hysterical fear. With a dark glare at her sister, Phoebe dashed over to drop to her knees on the blanket with the boys. She reached two protective auntie hands over Wyatt's ears. With another wicked scowl, she barked, "Don't say things like that to him! You don't know; you might be encouraging him with that stuff. Don't go giving him ideas. The objective is to keep him from turning evil, not trying to force him into it."

"I wasn't giving him ideas," Paige snorted with offense. She reached over and took her sister's hands away from her nephew's oh-so-tender ears and grinned down at him with all teacherly seriousness. "Okay, little dudes, listen up — both of you. What did we learn from this stupid story? I think (A) Your great-grandmother wasn't anywhere near to being the feminist she likes to pretend she was if she actually buys into this stuff. (B) Any girl you meet outside the family apparently is going to be helpless and will be spending her life cleaning the floors of her evil sisters if she doesn't find the perfect prince. (C) If this guy is a girl's perfect everything, you are both too handsome and too smart to be princes and therefore aren't going to get the girl. (D) Cutting off a part of your foot won't make your Pradas fit any better and will only leave a mess for that sister to clean up after. And (E) Birds are just plain cool."

"Cinderella wore Prada," asked Phoebe with a crooked smile, much more reassured by her sister's apparently instructional use of Grams's book of fairy tales.

"She had one wicked cool fairy godmother."

Before Phoebe could come up with a suitably sarcastic response, Wyatt interrupted them, pointing at the fireplace and asking, "'Hat's 'at?"

The sisters both turned their eyes in the direction in which their nephew was pointing them, but neither of them could see anything. They both glanced down at Wyatt, who was pointing like he was so sure he was seeing something. He looked up at both of his aunts for an answer that, after they glanced to one another for confirmation, they both knew that they could not give him.

After the sisters exchanged a few more concerned glances, Phoebe knelt down so that her face was level with Wyatt's, cheek to cheek. She moved her head with his as he looked around some more, continuing to ask his new favorite question. While his chubby fingers pointed to every lamp in the room, Phoebe asked him, "What do you see, Wyatt? What are you trying to show us?"

His attention span for this new game of his spent for the moment, Wyatt turned back toward his brother and aunts. He pointed at the book of fairy tales in Paige's lap and commanded her to read to them again. "'ook."

"Yes, your highness," Paige chuckled. She started flipping the pages of the book, looking for another tale with the hope of finding one that didn't in any way involve a damsel in distress or a subliminal message that sex was bad.

"Don't call him that," Phoebe said, her voice returning to that same overly-panicked, overly-protective tone.

"Pheebs," Paige started, sliding off the sofa and down onto the floor with the rest of the family. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped one arm around them. With the other, she reached over and took her sister's hand, shaking it hard and squeezing until Phoebe's fingertips turned bone white. Softly but leaving no room for avoidance she asked, "What's wrong?"

Phoebe turned her watchful eyes onto her nephews and refused to pull them away. Everything about her expression and words screamed that she was lying as she told her baby sister, "Nothing's wrong. I just don't think you should talk like that in front of Wyatt — or Christopher, for that matter. I think we need to really be careful about talking about D-E-M-O-N-S and M-A-G-I-C in front of them right now. Considering that he is, in some ways, a highness, thanks to the S-W-O-R-D, I just think it would be a good idea if we didn't mention anything like that right now. At least, we shouldn't until we know for sure that he's safe."

"His _altitude_ _is_ safe," Paige said strongly enough to make Wyatt look up at her with curiously big eyes. Seeing him look at her, she softened her voice a bit and added, "And that's not what's wrong. You have a tone when you lie, and just now you had a tone."

"I do not have a tone," the sister argued, shaking her head and pinching her eyes shut in that way that she had that let everyone know that she knew fully well that she'd been caught in yet another lie.

Seeing the expression, Paige taunted her. "Yes, you do."

"No, I don't. I don't have a tone and there isn't anything wrong."

Paige squeezed her sister's still-captive hand tight enough to make Phoebe yelp in pain. The harder that her sister tried to pull her hand away, the harder Paige held on until her hand was just too slippery to hold on any longer. As her sister cradled her now darkly purple hand, Paige commanded, "Spill it."

"Really, Paige, it's nothing."

"Look, I don't need to be a rocket scientist or an empath or anything other than a sister to see that there is something bothering you. Ever since Christopher was born, you have been either hiding out in your room or in your office at the paper. You don't eat with the rest of us. You don't talk to the rest of us. When you do that, it pretty much tells me that you have a lot to say, so say it. Why are you avoiding us?"

The elder of the two sisters sighed and relaxed her shoulders just enough so that she didn't look so sharp. She looked to her baby sister, who was staring and waiting patiently for her to actually say something instead of avoiding the issue. Phoebe had to hand it to Paige. She had the '_sister thing_' down pretty well considering she had been an only child her entire life. Either her sister skills had been an extra side effect when their incarnation of the Power of Three had been constituted or Paige was right and Phoebe really did have _A Tone_. Whichever one it was, it wasn't too hard for Phoebe to figure out that she had been caught but good. "I miss him," Phoebe finally sighed, caving to the pressure of her sister's watchful gaze. She smiled down on Baby Christopher, reaching a hand down to him. She rubbed her fingers slowly over his stomach in soothing circles, every touch seeming so much more important now. Even as she looked adoringly on their new baby, she was saddened by the thought of his adult counterpart. Nearing tears, she gave in fully to her admission. "I had no idea I was going to miss him this much."

"We all miss him," said Paige, trying to be reassuring without actually having to think about what she was saying. As much as she loved her sister, Paige had to admit that she had hoped that Phoebe wouldn't be in a mood to admit what she was thinking and feeling. She'd offered her conversational expertise because that's what sisters did, but still, she didn't want to think about any of it. Phoebe had obviously missed her oh-so-subtle eye blink that would have said, _'I know it sucks, but deal with it_.' Instead, Phoebe had said the words, leaving Paige's mind screaming, '_Don't miss him, don't think about him, new baby, celebrate, be a good aunt, don't miss him_'. Still, she had asked and now had to deal with it. So instead, she steadied herself to answer Phoebe, coming out with a much gentler version of "It's okay to miss him."

"Yeah, but I . . . " That's when Phoebe's guilt face took over, long before she was in any way able to disguise it. Hesitantly she admitted, "I know it's okay. I want to miss him. I do. I need to miss him. That's kind of why I — "

Immediately, Paige's stomach contents did a full lurch. She knew that look all too well and, quite frankly, after everything they had been through lately, she was not in the mood to wait for Phoebe to dally around the truth with her guilt. Careful not to be loud enough to alert the boys, she interrupted, "Oh, no. What did you do?"

"I might have sort of cast a teensy weensy spell," Phoebe said, the pitch of her voice rising guiltily with every word to match the pinching of her guilty face.

"Might have?"

"Maybe."

Paige did not look like she was in the least bit happy with her sister. Phoebe's active powers had been stripped because she had misused them. They couldn't afford to have anything else go magically wrong in the house these days. The guilt emanating from her sister was not encouraging her to believe that things were as simple as her words would like to suggest. Almost afraid to ask, Paige prodded, "How '_teensy weensy_'?"

"Oh, it was teeny. I swear it was." That was true. The spell had been relatively short and simple. Four lines. Tops. And only end rhymes. However, Phoebe flinched awkwardly and admitted with her smallest voice, "The backfire wasn't."

"Phoebe!"

Defensively Phoebe jumped in before her sister was even done shrieking her name. "It shouldn't have backfired. It shouldn't. I made sure that I worded it so that there was absolutely no _Personal Gain_ involved in it at all. I swear I did."

"_What_ did you do?"

Relaxing and no longer caring about appearing guilty, Phoebe sank back, defeated. She let her honest fear take over as she explained, "Well, I . . . I was worried that there would be reprisals for everything that happened between Gideon and Leo. I was afraid that it would be bad enough and the other Elders were mad enough that maybe the Cleaners were going to have to get involved."

Confused, Paige struggled to see the connection between Phoebe's apparent predisposition to problems of the _Personal Gain_ nature, The Thing That Didn't Happen, and the magical world's exposure clean up crew in badly tailored white suits. "Why would the Cleaners be involved in this?"

"Because the Elders really can't afford to have the Charmed Ones turning their backs on Them, now can They? If we were to suddenly quit doing our jobs, if we were to stop asking the proverbial _'How High_' every time They said '_Jump_', the balance of power between Good and Evil would shift. I don't know about you, but I'm angry enough with the Elders right now that I don't feel like doing Them any favors for the next — oh, say — fifty years or so." Phoebe caught herself in her anger as Wyatt tugged for attention on her arm, his little fingers barely able to hold on. She took her nephew into her lap, hoping that he could keep her calm enough not to lose her temper. She bounced him on her knee and softly, as if the Elders wouldn't hear her if she whispered, she went on. "I'm pretty sure They know that. The only ways to keep us on Their side then are to either be really, really good to Leo and just forgive the entire thing or to make us forget about all of it in the first place. That would mean making us forget about Chris and everything that has happened in the last year and a half. I just wanted to be prepared in case that should happen. I didn't want to forget him. I didn't want to even take the chance that I could forget him."

"So you cast a memory spell," sighed Paige, shifting the pieces of her sister's story around in her head. "Well, you obviously still have your memory or you wouldn't even know your own name right now. So where's the backfire?"

"I'm constantly reliving everything that happened when Chris was here. I'm seeing events, conversations, anything that happened at all," explained Phoebe. Then, darkly serious, she added, "But I'm seeing it all from his point of view, not mine."

"Huh?"

"That's the backfire, Paige. I'm not remembering _him_. I'm remembering _for _him." As an example, Phoebe pointed over toward the wooden bench near the front door. "The night that you and Richard broke up, he sat there the entire night, waiting for you to get back so that he could be sure you were okay. He waited until he heard you opening the door before he orbed out."

Finding that somehow endearing, a side of her nephew that she hadn't seen very often, Paige fondly smiled. "He did?"

"Yeah. He wanted to stay to talk to you, but he couldn't make himself do it. He was afraid you were still mad at him for not telling you who he was. He knew you hadn't really had time to think about it, and he didn't want to intrude. He just wanted to be sure you got home okay, in case Richard changed his mind about stripping his powers and freaked out again."

"Really?" Still focusing on the sweetness, Paige grinned even brighter. She looked at the baby lying on the blanket next to her and wiggled her fingers at him. "Thanks, my dude!"

Phoebe pointed over toward the corner of the room where he had been standing when he had been waiting to tell the girls that they were about to be turned into goddesses. "The day he came here? When you came downstairs and he saw you for the first time, it broke his heart. He was meeting you for the first time, hearing your voice for the first time, and he couldn't even tell you who he was. It meant a lot to him, though, just to be near you. We apparently always told him that he got his smart-ass streak from you."

Looking kind of thrilled about that revelation, Paige asked again, all smiles, "Really?"

"Yeah," the elder sister sighed fondly. Knowing exactly where else she had to go, Phoebe consciously relaxed all of the muscles in her face, trying to look as casual as possible. Her eyes, however, remained dark and sad, struggling with thought and memory. She didn't want to talk about this, but now that Paige had asked and she'd started, she really couldn't stop. Cautiously she asked, "Can I ask you something?"

Afraid of where this was going — _Don't think, New baby, Celebrate _— Paige could only nod her answer.

Carefully forming her words, Phoebe asked, "Once we found out everything about Chris being who he was and W-Y-A-T-T being E-V-I-L and the general state of our future, did you ever imagine it? Did you imagine what the future was like?"

Reluctantly, Paige admitted, "Sometimes, but nothing was really clear about it. I couldn't get that far." Even as she said it, her mind hummed her now familiar, comforting inner tune. _Celebrate, celebrate, celebrate. New baby. Celebrate._

"But did you ever actually want to _know_?"

Still concentrating on not comprehending the place she knew Phoebe was trying to take her, Paige asked, "About Wyatt?"

"About the future, about the things that happen between now and when Chris comes back. I mean, Chris had secrets, a lot of secrets, and it was kind of easy to guess that they all led up to something horrible enough for him to decide that coming back and changing the timeline enough to even risk his own existence was the only way out. It was always an abstract concept that we knew but we didn't know. You know? It was an _idea_, not a reality, not for us. But did you ever really want to know more than that?"

"What are you getting at?"

Phoebe stopped bouncing Wyatt, feeling for some strange reason that she wanted to be looking him in the eye as she finally admitted what was going on. Maybe it wasn't so strange. After all, she knew now that Chris had never told them just how awful Wyatt had become. Maybe looking at any aged version of him was enough for her. It didn't have to make sense. Nothing else did these days. To him and Paige she said evenly, "I don't have a choice any more. I don't wonder; I _know_. I know all of the horrible things that happened to him, to Wyatt, to all of us. I know all the things he's going to grow up to do. I know what he did to Chris, to all of us. I know what he did to the world. Now that I know, I know for sure that if I had a choice, I would not want to know any of it. I don't ever want any of us to know any of it, ever again."

"I don't understand."

"When I'm remembering things, I'm seeing things as Chris saw them. I'm seeing them through the experiences that formed him, through his life. You know how smelling something or hearing a certain song can make you remember a certain something? When things happened here and now that made Chris remember things from his past, that's how I'm seeing them, too." When Paige looked at her for a little more clarification, Phoebe slumped back and pulled Wyatt close to her chest, hugging him hard enough to make him squirm. Hearing his protests, as if he knew that she was having thoughts of what he had once and might still become, she let him go enough so that he could breathe at least and started smoothing his hair to distract herself. It made her feel better, like somehow he was still just a little boy in her mind. She wanted to keep him that way forever if she was going to have to see those things in their future. Darkly, she made it as clear as she possibly could to her sister what she was going through. "I'm sharing the memories of his past, Paige."

Hesitantly, Paige asked, "Like what?"

Phoebe looked distantly into the sunroom, not seeing the room itself but seeing the things about it. She easily recalled the first memory of Chris's that she'd shared. She had cast her spell in that room, so it made sense she'd have one there first. It also made sense to her, like it or not, that Chris's strongest memories would be the ones he would most readily recall if he were alive to have them. She just hadn't been expecting to have his memories, let alone to have them hit her so strongly, so fast. Slowly, she felt the pain of Chris's memory, every time he had relived it in bright Technicolor detail over the last twenty months whenever he went into the sunroom, just as she was now doing. "Like . . . when Chris was ten, a demon attacked us, as usual. It was just me and him and Wyatt in the room. Wyatt had just enough time to warn us that he had seen something in the shadows. I must have heard the blast before I saw it because all Chris remembered was me tackling him to the ground as the windows all broke into the room. I had pushed him too far, though, and he hit his head on the end table there. When he woke up, I was still laying on top of him and the table was on top of us. It took him a few times of trying to push me off to realize that I was dead. I was dead, and he couldn't push me off of him because of the table. He didn't want to orb out from under me because he was afraid that the table would hurt me. He had to lay there, with me on top of him until Wyatt regained consciousness and was able to help us up."

"Oh, Phoebe," Paige said as stiffly as she could, fighting the tears that once again threatened to overtake her. Then again, it wasn't too hard for her to turn them off. She had stopped really listening to her sister as soon as she had heard the word '_blast_'. She had known it couldn't lead to anything good and didn't have time to deal with anything less than good when it came to her nephew right now. He was here, he was a baby, and he needed to be celebrated.

"I can't turn it off," Phoebe whisper-sobbed. She was truly scared, something that she realized she hadn't felt in a long, long time. "I can't make it stop."

Knowing that talking about magic and the math of potions and spells was something detached enough that she could handle, Paige turned her hearing back on to full attention. Offering the most obvious solution, she asked, "Have you tried a reversal spell?"

"There isn't one."

Thoughtfully, Paige formed her words in her head as fast as she could before her mouth caught up with her brain. "Maybe it's like that time you brought your future and past selves here. Maybe there's something that you need to learn from the memories that once you've learned it, the spell will have played out and they'll just stop?"

"I thought about that, too, actually, but I don't think that'll happen. The spell shouldn't have done this. I worded it so carefully, I did. It didn't have anything to do with an end result. It was just about not forgetting Chris. I . . . I still can't figure out where the backfire was."

Wincing at the imagined consequences of her next suggestion, Paige offered, "Maybe we should tell Piper?"

"No," Phoebe disagreed vehemently, causing Wyatt to start curiously again. This time, she didn't even notice. Forcefully, she told her sister, "You can't tell Piper. I mean it. You can't tell her a word about this."

"Why not?"

"I am reliving her dead child's memories," Phoebe answered as if it should be the most logical conclusion in all the world. "Piper says she's okay, but she's not okay. I've known Piper my whole life, and I know that there is no way that she's okay. If she realizes that I know about all of the horrible, traumatic things that these boys are going to have to go through in the future — when she realizes that I know Chris's pain — it's going to hurt her even more. Chris had plenty of time to practice being able to hide his emotions from us and not show them on his face when he was around us. You saw him that first day; he smiled at you, even though it was killing him inside not to tell you who he was. He _smiled_. I don't have that kind of control. Everywhere I turn, I am seeing bits of his life, and I can't control myself. If Piper sees what it's doing to me, she's going to know how horrible her son's life was. I can't do that to her."

"That's why you've been hiding? So that Piper wouldn't see?"

"Hiding from Piper, hiding from everyone . . .and from the memories. There are enough of them in my room alone to keep my mind occupied. I don't need to go anywhere else in the house. There are a couple in my office, too, and in my car on the way to the office . . . "

"In your office?"

A wry chuckle escaped Phoebe's lungs before she had the chance to deny it. "They're at least happy ones, or as close to happy as any of them get." Phoebe sighed, trying to collect herself enough to be honest. "That's not true. Plenty of his memories are happy, I think. I just miss him too much right now to realize that they should be making me happy. I mean, I'm finally getting to know Chris, right? Isn't that what we all had wanted? Well, I'm getting it, full blast and gloves off."

Paige looked hopefully on her sister, completely missing the tone in Phoebe's voice. Fondly, thinking happily of Chris and one of the few times she had seen him really smile, she asked, "Yeah?"

Gloomily, Phoebe admitted, "I would have been that big of an obsessed train wreck, too."

Paige had no idea what to say to that, so she didn't bother to say anything at all. The girls both sat in silence for a few minutes, choosing instead to watch helplessly as their hearts were stolen away by the two tiny princes in their presence. Phoebe finally let go of Wyatt, who clumsily grabbed the book of fairy tales from the sofa and plopped down with it. He fumbled through the pages, pointing excitedly at random drawings of Princes Charming and their mighty swords. He would look up at them, his eyes big and round with wonder, before returning to the book and its many colorful pictures. Christopher, on the other hand, entertained them by merely breathing in and out as his eyes slowly shut on his wondrous new world after having been awake for almost two hours. It wasn't until they closed for good that either sister managed to break their silence.

Grudgingly, Phoebe opened up the conversation saying, "Elise thinks I'm not showing enough enthusiasm for the new baby."

With a sarcastic head jiggle, Paige snorted, "Seriously?" Glad for the in to get away from any more serious sister talk for a while, she teased, "Has she _seen_ you make the goofy baby faces you make at these kids? Because you have the . . . "

Her sister rattled on, but Phoebe didn't hear her. All of a sudden, all she could see was herself, right up in her face, making ridiculous noises that she couldn't quite discern. She thought she heard the words, "_You're going to be so cute. Yes, you are. Oh, yes you are_," before she crumbled into more unrecognizable baby talk. Then she moved out of her line of sight to be replaced by Leo. She remembered — or rather, Chris remembered — saying to his father, "_Okay. We've need to snap them out of this — fast_." Phoebe shook her head, trying to pull herself out of Chris's memory, only to return to Paige still making fun of her inability to interact with children using real words or a grown-up voice.

". . . same problem with Wyatt. I know you want to be a good aunt, Pheebs, but you _have_ to stop kissing his head every five minutes, especially with lipstick on. His skin is still too sensitive, and if you don't knock it off, he's going to break out in a rash like Wyatt did."

Trying her hardest to join her sister on a happier, less stressful level, Phoebe did her best to feign offense (which wasn't too hard considering that she was tired of everyone picking on her affectionate aunting skills). "How was I supposed to know that showing my nephew that I love him would make him break out?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, or should I just let the red splotches on the top of his head do my talking for me?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes backward sarcastically before settling them adoringly on the two boys on the blanket. Without even realizing that her tone regressed back to baby talk, she gah-gahed at them, "Fine. Auntie Phoebe will keep the kissy-wissies down to a minimum, my little smooshy faces. Yes, I will. Because Auntie Paige is just a widdle crabby pants tonight, and we need to tell her this to make her feel better. Oh, yes, we do."

Paige grinned brightly down at Wyatt and said (in the most chipper _adult_ voice she had), "Look away, dude, while I use completely unacceptable violence to clown your aunt." With that, Paige whapped her arm back to smack her sister upside the back of her head. Her eyes and smile still focused on Wyatt, she sing-songed, "I'm not crabby."

"Yes, you are," Phoebe retorted, happy to be Accuser instead of Accused. Almost as an afterthought, she reached a protective hand up behind her ear to soothe the sting from Paige's playful but painful slap.

"No, I'm not," sang Paige, not betraying any signs of being in anything less than a Mary Poppins-esque mood.

"Really? Then why wouldn't you come with us to see Darryl?"

Ping! Paige felt herself sit up ram rod straight as she completely shut herself down to keep from hearing her former friend's voice in her head. "_He needs to pay his fine and take his punishment_ . . . " Only the ringing of the front doorbell kept her from letting the wicked voice sing-song its way any further into her head. Doing her best to control even the flash of panic that would normally hit her eyes at being trapped like this, she kept looking adoringly at the boys and evenly asked Phoebe, "Shouldn't you get that?"

Phoebe didn't move to answer the door or anything else. She suspiciously eyed her sister, letting her know with her tone that she wasn't going anywhere until she got an answer to her earlier question. "Paige?"

"That should be your dad. I need to change clothes and get back to the club anyway," the younger sister hummed and hawed just a little too quickly to be honest. She stood up and reached a hand down to help her sister up as well. Paige stretched her arms high over her head, pulling at the now protesting muscles in her lower back. She really should have stayed on the cushioned safety of the couch (for more than one reason). At least she'd be in the ergonomic ecstasy of the chair in the P3 office shortly. When her body was sufficiently stretched and reawakened after a ninth straight night of minimal sleep, Paige dropped her hands down onto her sister's shoulders. She gave herself a grounding nod and leaned over to peck her sister lovingly, comfortingly on the cheek. "Say '_Hi_' to your dad for me, and I'll see you guys all in the morning."

Not caring that her father was still waiting on the front doorstep (he could wait one more minute — it wasn't like he was going anywhere), Phoebe tried one last time to get her quickly retreating sister's attention. As Paige practically flew to the staircase and the apparent safety of escape, Phoebe called after her, "He's leaving San Francisco. He's packing them up and leaving the state."

Her feet already blissfully pounding up the stairs, Paige ignored her sister's new revelation and shouted toward the door., "Phoebe will be right there."

Phoebe growled after her sister as she stole one last look at the boys before heading into the hallway toward the door. As she stomped across the floor, she called ahead through the door, "Sorry, Daddy. I'm coming."

The childishly radiant smile on her face in no way matched the furrowed brow of fatherly concern on the other side of the door. "Is this a bad time," Victor asked cautiously over Phoebe's shoulder into the house, indicating that what he really meant was, "_Is there something evil in the house — again?_"

"Oh, no, Daddy! Everything's fine. We're just — Paige and I, we were just having a little talk that you conveniently got her out of. That's all."

Victor frowned as he continued to search for signs of demonic trauma over her shoulder. "Sounds serious."

Phoebe waved her father off with a huffy raspberry. She reached up and dropped his bag from his shoulder as she protested, "No. We were just talking about your incredibly handsome grandsons, who are both very anxious to see you, so come on in here already, unless you're planning on spending the next two weeks on the sidewalk."

The man didn't believe his daughter's twitchy grin for a second, but Victor knew when it was best not to push. He'd really only been a part of his baby girl's life for the last six years or so, but he was a quick study. He had learned very early on that when Phoebe gave him that look, she had been up to something. He just hadn't earned the right to call her on it just yet — not entirely anyway. He _had_, however, earned a right to a little fatherly sugar which he had every intention of collecting. He followed her into the house, and with arms opened wide, he didn't even have to ask before Phoebe poured herself into his embrace.

While her father smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead, Phoebe said into his shoulder, "I'm really glad you're here, Daddy."

"It's good to see you, too, Honey."

They held on to the hug, a habit neither of them consciously noticed but both of them felt. Since Prue's death, Father/Daughter hugs seemed so much more precious than they ever had before and were not to be wasted, tossed away, or taken for granted. It wasn't until they heard the first drops of rain striking the pavement that they realized that the door was still open.

As Phoebe reluctantly broke the hug, ushered her father the rest of the way into the house, and shut the door behind them, she cheerfully ran through the short list of greetings. "We're really glad you're here, Dad. Paige wanted me to tell you '_Hi_' and that she'll see you in the morning. She's covering for Piper at the club tonight. Piper should be down in a little bit, and I'm sure that Leo will be happy to see you, too, Wherever Leo is — or . . . isn't."

"Leo's back," Victor asked. "I thought Piper said he'd gone, you know, Up There, permanently?"

"A lot's happened since the last time you visited, Dad. A lot. Why don't we go to the living room so that you can meet your new grandson — again — and I'll tell you all about it?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Piper?"

The witch gestured up the stairwell and through the ceiling as they snailed their way through the foyer. "She's probably going to be a while. She's up in the attic talking with Grams."

"Penny's here?"

"You've really missed a lot," Phoebe said again, chuckling lightly because it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down in tears again. She really didn't want to be the one to tell her father about all that he had missed, but she also knew that she couldn't put Piper through having to tell their dad after having to go through it all with Grams. Telling one of them was going to be hard enough. The least she could do was take care of their father. She replaced the smile that she had learned well to use since becoming a local celebrity and said cheerfully, "C'mon. I'll fill you in while Christopher is still asleep. Piper really needs some time alone with Grams and, damn it, I want some alone time with my dad. I didn't get to see nearly enough of you the last time you came to visit."

"No, you didn't," Victor grinned. He wrapped an arm around his baby's shoulders as she cozied herself around his waist and led him into the living room. "But I fully intend to make — "

"Wyatt!" Phoebe quickly let go of her father to cross the distance to her nephew where he remained on the floor. The only difference was that when she'd left him two minutes ago, he'd been quietly studying the pictures in the book of fairy tales; now he sat with the book closed at his feet, surrounding himself and his brother in his glowy blue protective shield. He lowered it as soon as she was within arm's length of him, but it had been up just the same. She looked all around the room for whatever could have scared him enough to raise his shield, nervously saying, "I'm so sorry, Baby. I'm sorry you couldn't see me. Did we scare you?"

The boy answered his aunt only by plopping back down and turning his attention back to his discarded book.

"Guess not," Phoebe shrugged, both confused and amazed.

Concerned, Victor asked, "Why would Wyatt be upset if he couldn't see you for just a second? He's been left in a room by himself plenty of times now, hasn't he?"

Gravely, Phoebe bent over and hoisted Wyatt onto her hip. She snuggled her nose up against his cheek for a moment before turning to her father. She indicated the sleeping baby on the floor with a nod. "Get Christopher, Daddy. I need to get the boys upstairs and changed, so I'll explain on the way."

Victor smiled down on the tiny little boy who he had met fully grown just a few months ago. He scooped the baby up gently, his few parenting skills coming back to him just like riding a bicycle. Softly he whispered to him, "Hello, there, young man. I'm your awesome grandpa and — because I'm your awesome grandpa — I'm going to spoil you rotten. There won't be anything in the world that you can't tell me. My promise to you."

None of the men with her saw the sadness in Phoebe's eyes as she silently prayed to herself while they trudged up the stairs that that would be true, for all of Christopher's days.

**II.**

"_Is this a bad time?_"

There were very few moments in Piper's life that she could recall with total clarity and know that she was in no way remembering anything wrongly. She remembered exactly the events surrounding her wedding(s) to Leo, even if the details of the final ceremony were a little on the fuzzy side. She would never forget every single detail of the day of her sister's death or the events that followed. She could remember even the color of the tie that Cole was wearing the night that they had vanquished him as The Source for the first time, setting Phoebe temporarily free. She even liked to think that she remembered every detail of Wyatt's birth, even though her sisters might argue with that one.

What Piper remembered with the most clarity about the day that she had been told that Chris was her son from the future was the look in his eyes when he had asked that question: _Is this a bad time?_ He had been standing there in the doorway of her bedroom, a bedroom that she had kicked him out of many, many times. At first, he had looked like he always had. He could just as easily have been just popping by and had known when he had seen them that he had been interrupting some sort of sisterly chat. But then, when their eyes had met, mother and son, he had seen that the shock had yet to wear off of her face. He had seen that she knew. Immediately, everything about him had changed. The realization in Chris's eyes — which Leo later told her he should have realized were his eyes, which were so like his own mother's eyes, looking back at them — then had suddenly followed some unseen line to the most logical next step and steeled in preparation for being kicked out of the room, the house, and their lives one more time. In that look, though, there was also a lingering something more, something that she had never noticed before — a pleading, '_Please, just this once, listen to me_' kind of look.

He had suddenly appeared so small to her, so lost. He wasn't the arrogant, mysterious, and more-trouble-than-he-was-sometimes-worth Whitelighter that she had come to both occasionally like and more often suspect. He wasn't even twenty-two years old anymore. He had suddenly just appeared to be a child, her child, and one who had seen and done far too much for someone of his age. In the ten months that she had known him, she had never seen him looking so vulnerable, and she, quite frankly, had had no idea what to do with that.

Chris had apparently felt just as lost as she had because that pleading look had been quickly replaced by that masked look that they had all come to know so well. He had waved a hand at the room, breezing them off. "_You know, it's no big deal. You guys look like you've got some sister thing going on, and what I have can wait. I'll just come back later._"

"_Oh, good grief, would you just get your ass in here_," Piper had moaned in exasperation. Him standing there and looking at her like that had been just a little more than she had been able to handle at the moment. When he still hadn't moved, she had waved him around in big sarcastic circles until she planted a pointed finger down in front of her. "_Would you stop being such a baby and get over here?_"

Chris had walked so tentatively through the doorway, like he thought that he was going to burst into flames or be struck by lightning once he was all the way through. The next few steps had appeared to go a little easier, but those last two steps before he stopped and was standing right in front of her had been excruciating for them both. They had stood there, looking at one another for a long beat, neither of them knowing exactly what to say or do. It wasn't until Chris had finally allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch in hopeful, smiling apology that Piper had known exactly what she had wanted to say and do.

That was when she had punched him square in the chest, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Immediately his hand had risen up to meet the pain as he had looked on his mother in confusion, the grin wiped clean off his face. "_What was that for?_"

"_That was for all of the lying and half-truths that you've been feeding me for the last ten months._" She had watched him carefully, and as soon as she saw his hurt expression soften with understanding, she had pegged him just as hard, that time in his left shoulder. "_And that was for telling Paige and Phoebe before you told me._" That time, he had just smiled, apparently perfectly willing to take his punishment for that one. Not happy with his reaction, Piper had slugged him again, reaching for his right shoulder, which he didn't even bother to defend. "_That was for all the times that you nearly died and still didn't tell us._" After that, she let herself relax a little bit. She knew he was expecting her to go on and on and on about all the things that could be categorized as _Coulda Shoulda Woulda_, but she hadn't had the energy to keep going. The night before had been a rough one, and the news from her sisters had only taken what energy she had had left out of her. Still, she remembered feeling like she was finally regaining some of her breath after their announcement had knocked it out of her. She certainly had felt that she had had one more complaint left in her. So she had pinged him one last time, that time just behind his ear. "_And that was for not warning me that I shouldn't have given all of Wyatt's baby clothes to Derek when you knew I was going to be needing them again._"

"_Sorry_," he had said, not appearing to be in the least bit sorry.

"_Don't you give me that look,_" she had told him, barely able to contain giggles as she had said it. The absolute absurdity of the situation had just started to encroach on her mind, her sisters' words just starting to make real sense. The adult man who had been standing in her doorway was her child, fully grown, fully sarcastic, and, if she could in any way have her way, fully grounded for the next month. The irrationality had just kept on coming as the ridiculousness of the entire thing pointed out the strangeness of trying to use logic at all. Realizing that there could be no winning on her part, she had moaned in exasperation, "_Oh, who am I kidding? You're how old?_"

"_Twenty-two._"

"_Yeah, you stopped listening to me ten years ago,_" Piper had muttered to herself, eyeing her sisters. She knew Prue had had her phase, Phoebe had had a phase, and she'd heard that Paige had had a phase. Chris was a Halliwell. He'd had a phase. There was no way that she could have escaped that lovely part of adolescence with him, not when he had that smart ass little smile of his. She had turned her suspicious eye back on her son and asked, "_You were a real handful, weren't you?_"

Chris's only response had been to smile what Phoebe had dubbed his '_Creepy Pod-people_' smile. Piper hated that smile. It always meant that he knew something that he was in no way going to tell them but he had been caught thinking about it. It had made too many appearances for their tastes. Now, though, with everything that had happened to them, Piper was beginning to think that smile hadn't been so bad. At least he'd been alive to smile it. She missed that smile.

The sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs pulled Piper away from the memory and from her grandmother's shoulder for the first time since finally breaking down. The sobs quickly died down, although even after half an hour of them, she still felt incredibly pent up. She was tired of fighting with herself about whether she was crying too much, or not enough, or if it was even appropriate considering how things had gone for the majority of the time he'd been with them. There was so much anger and devastation in her that there just wasn't room enough for all of it. She didn't know if there would ever be a manageable amount of her pain. That prospect seemed so far off that it was in no way attainable whatsoever.

Penny must have sensed the slowing of her granddaughter's breathing because she pulled her shoulder back slightly to look down into her girl's reddened eyes. "Better?"

"No," Piper laughed and cried at the same time. Apparently, her grandmother's impatience knew no bounds, even in death.

"What can I do?"

"I don't know, Grams," Piper sighed. She allowed herself to fall away from her grandmother's embrace and sink back into the corner of the sofa so that she could actually look at the ghostly lady again. She pulled a pillow over her still slightly-inflated stomach, again wishing for that tiny life that was no longer inside her to be able to bring her to some sense of peace. Outwardly, she had been nothing but the picture of peace for the last nine days. She was trying to help the rest of the family find their own peace first. Inwardly, all she wanted to do was keep her grams there so that she could just sit and cry until there weren't any tears in the world left to cry. She wanted so desperately for her grandmother to give her the right answer, to tell her what she was supposed to do with everything that had taken over her life. She wanted someone to take over for her the way she had taken over for everyone else. "I really don't know what anyone can do, but if you have any clue, I'll be glad to let you take over for a while."

Distracted from hearing voices floating up from the front hall, Penny looked sharply at her granddaughter. Both confused and concerned, she asked, "Are you expecting someone?"

"Just Dad," Piper answered, wiping her nose on her sleeve then groaning when she realized that she had. She gave it an ugly glance before waving her grandmother off. "It's okay. Paige was going to keep him entertained until we were done talking for now. Besides, I'm sure he'll want some time with the boys. He's on a Super Grandpa kick now that he knows he is the world's most awesome grandpa in the future."

Penny huffed in disgusted disbelief. It was no secret that she wasn't exactly fond of many men in the living world — or any other world for that matter. She had long proclaimed her disdain for her former son-in-law after he had abandoned her daughter Patty and her granddaughters. The sisters had managed a few years ago to move beyond that distance that separated daughters from father, even if Penny hadn't. That didn't mean she had to like it, though. She would profess her dislike for the man until the day he died and then some.

The attitude was not and could in no way go unnoticed by Piper. She chuckled lightly to herself, imagining the various four letter words that her grandmother was thinking of to describe her father at the moment. With a diplomatic half smile, Piper told her, "You really need to let that go. I know you aren't planning on ever forgiving him for leaving us, but you have to give him a chance to fix things for us. He's trying really hard to be there for the boys. I wish you could see that he deserves a second chance. Besides, Chris was incredibly tight-lipped about anything concerning his past, but he had no problem whatsoever with letting us know that Dad turns out to be the world's greatest grandfather in the future. They apparently end up being really close. Considering how little Chris was willing to tell us, I'm going to take that as a good sign for Dad that Chris was so ready to reveal that much."

"_Your_ father," Penny asked, still not all that warm to the suggestion of forgiving The Deserter in any way. Parenting skills were an essential building block to being a good grandparent, and Victor Bennett, in her opinion, didn't even have a set of Lincoln Logs to build upon. "I find that hard to believe."

"Chris wouldn't tell us hardly anything about the future at all, but if you could have seen it when he first saw Dad sitting in the living room with me when he came to visit, you would understand. Chris couldn't say enough good things about Dad as a grandfather. If you could have seen the two of them together, it would be enough for you, too. I believe him, and I believe it when Dad says he wants to be a part of our lives and try to be a better grandfather than he was a father. You need to give him a chance, Grams. We all do. Better late than never, right?"

"He's a man, Piper. I don't want to see him break your hearts again, but he's going to. He can't control himself," Penny sputtered, collapsing at the heart-tugging, almost childishly wishful brightness on her grandchild's face. "I'm only trying to protect you girls."

Piper looked down at her hands thoughtfully, oddly noticing how much they were like her grandmother's for maybe the first time in many, many years. She didn't know why the thought was occurring to her at that particular moment, but then, she'd been having random thoughts like those now for almost two weeks. Still, there was a lot for her to know about her hands. Her hands were one of the most feared weapons in the demonic world. She counted on her hands to protect her family, and part of that family was her father. Realizing then that she wasn't just thinking randomly, that her thought did matter, she turned it on her grandmother, who above all other things would understand the need she had to protect her family, including her father. Thoughtfully, she told the lady, "We don't need protecting from him, you know. If anyone in this house needs protecting, it's him from all of the nonsense of our lives. Try to put it in his perspective. He's the only completely non-magical person in this entire family. He has to rely on his daughters to protect him instead of things being the other way around. He's already lost his wife and eldest child to demons. He probably waits by the phone every time he gets a twitchy feeling because that might just be the night when one of us is going to tell him that he's lost another daughter or a grandson. Trust me, Grams. He's the one who needs protecting, not us."

Penny, however, was not going to be so easily swayed, even by her granddaughter. A warning mist passed over her eyes, darkly letting Piper know that she was trying to manipulate the wrong woman with talk of family and protection. "You've been married to a Whitelighter for far too long if you're trying to play peacemaker between me and your father."

"Try, for me."

"Civility is the best I can do right now, my darling. Don't ask me for more."

Piper took in a long, deep breath and tried to think of anything that could possibly help her cause at all. Her dark eyes fell back to her hands, the hands so like her grandmother's, and there she found the answer. Her hands didn't give second chances. There were many demons that could no longer vouch for that. Why her grandmother's hands or any other part of herself would be any different wasn't the point, though. Penny believed she was protecting her family. Second chances were not something that Penelope Halliwell did, and that was the end of it. Right or wrong, that was all that really mattered. Settled on the realization that there was no changing her stubborn grandmother's mind, Piper nodded in conciliation.

Seeing the gesture, Penny made one of her own. A smile returned to her now unaging face, the closest that she was going to get to her promise of civility. "So your father knows about Chris — the Chris from the future?"

"That he was here? Sure. We haven't told him about . . . " Piper wanted to kick herself for trailing off and not being able to complete that sentence. Her son, the adult version of her son, was dead. She was going to have to get used to saying it at some point. It had been nine days. Shouldn't she be able to say it by now? That he'd been murdered wasn't anything that she had to admit yet, but that he was dead needed words by now. She huffed, annoyed at herself for doing it again, and marched on through what she had to say, forcing the words to keep coming. "We haven't told him about how Chris died or anything yet. We don't know how to. It's going to break his heart. They didn't have a lot of time together, but what time they did have was really special. It made a huge difference in them both."

All pretense of niceties quickly vanished as Penny muttered jealously, "I can't believe he knew and I didn't. That isn't the sort of thing that you girls should be keeping from me. You know that, don't you?"

"You're laying the guilt on a little thick for someone who hasn't had the time to look in on us for at least ten months," Piper argued. When she saw the ache on her grandmother's face, Piper realized that she had pinched a nerve in the lady just a little too hard. She quickly softened and apologized. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just really angry, really confused, and just plain worn out."

"What can I do?"

"I honestly don't know. I haven't really had much time to process any of it myself, you know? There isn't a whole lot of anything that makes any kind of sense, and I really don't know what to do with that. I don't know what to do with anything anymore."

Penny reached over and took her girl's hand and put it to her chest as she had done so many times when she was still alive. As a living, breathing person, her heartbeat had always been a calming reminder to her girls that she was there with them, no matter what they had to tell her. Good, Bad, or Otherwise. Her love for her girls knew disappointment and anger, but it never diminished. The beating of her heart was the best proof of that that she could offer her girls. Blood to blood, heart to heart, her girls were a part of her. She had always told them that as long as her heart was still beating, there would be no end to her love for them and her stalwart devotion to their every need. The gesture wouldn't have the same biological effects as it had, but the intent behind the gesture remained the same. She covered Piper's hand with both of hers as she pressed it hard to her chest. "Then you can start the way you always have. You give me your anger. You give me your frustration. Then when you have given me everything that you can give me, we'll find a way for us to get rid of it together."

Piper smiled reminiscently at the gesture. Now she remembered exactly why it was that she had called her grandmother to her side and not her mother or her big sister or anyone else. Grams was the one who knew how to do this. Grams had always known exactly how to do this, if it was about boys or school or whatever. Part of her knew that the little girl in her was always going to believe that her grams knew everything and had all the answers. She hoped that this time wouldn't be any different. Feeling that same relief of years gone by wash over her, that relief that Grams was going to fix it again, she allowed her eyes to well up once more. Grams would know what to do with the tears. Grams would know what to do with all of it. As the tears fell from her cheeks and she oh-so-attractively sniffed once again, she asked, "What do you want first?"

"Where is the beginning," Penny offered as a suggestion.

Piper rolled her eyes with a sarcastic smile. Another sniff accented the wildness of the question because, just like all of the questions Piper had, that one didn't exactly have a concrete answer. "I don't know. I mean, is it the first day Chris showed up here in the attic and turned our lives upside down, or the night that he was conceived? Should I start with the day he was born and killed in the same day? Hell, maybe it starts in the future. I don't know."

Penny removed her granddaughter's hand from her chest and set it gently in her lap. She held it with one hand and stroked it slowly and lovingly with the other. She gave herself a moment to think over all of the options that had just been randomly handed to her until she finally settled on the one question that had certainly been bothering her over the last half an hour. "Well, why don't you start with telling me why he came back here from the future in the first place?"

The request brought another sarcastic laugh from Piper. With a roll of her eyes she snorted, "You want the short version?"

"Piper."

"Sorry, but I told you, there aren't any simple questions here." Her grandmother tossed her another of her patented looks, prompting Piper to remember that she was the one who had called her grandmother to her in the first place. The simplest answer, the one Paige had told her he had offered her the night she found out about him, was probably the safest bet to start out with. Proudly, Piper told her grandmother, "He came here to save his family."

"From what?"

Taking a deep, calming breath, Piper tried to allow herself to remember that day when Chris had first appeared in the attic. For her, everything had started that day, and if she was going to be the one telling the story, that was where it was going to have to start, she supposed. Much more calmly she explained the story of the day that they had first met Chris, his part in Leo becoming an Elder, and all of the insanity that she was still trying to figure out if she should have grounded him for or not. She told her grandmother about everything that she knew, all of the things that she hadn't managed to have time to tell Grams during her last visit. For the most part, it was a lot easier to talk about those parts. After all, they hadn't known who Chris was, so details hadn't really seemed all that important at the time. To detach that part of his time with them wasn't all that difficult at all, actually. If she really took the time to think about it, she supposed that it made a lot of sense. He had been able to desensitize himself. If he could, so could she.

It wasn't until she remembered her birthday and had to actually put that into words that she found it hard. Her sentences seemed to slow down after that, even to her. As she spoke, it had the strangest dream-like quality to her that she didn't know how to explain. Even a year later, it was still hard to remember anything from that point on without massive guilt clouding everything around it. Her voice was flooded with it as she went on to explain, "Over the next few months, there were a lot of fights and suspicions and all kinds of insanity when it came to Chris and Leo and all of us. The only thing that we were clear about was that Chris had come back from the future not just to save Paige, but to save Wyatt. He didn't know what sort of demon we were looking for, but he knew that he was protecting Wyatt from something. He wouldn't tell us any of the circumstances that he was supposedly protecting Wyatt from or anything else that could have been helpful in any way at all. He was incredibly tight-lipped about his future and what he was trying to accomplish. Then on the night of my birthday, he decided to drop the lovely bombshell on us that he wasn't here because a demon had attacked Wyatt, but because Wyatt was the terror that he was trying to stop. In his future, Wyatt had grown up to be pretty much the ruler of all Evil and a terror on anyone and anything."

Penny sucked in a breath, pishawing at her granddaughter, even under the threat of being shooshed once again. "Now, Piper, why would Wyatt grow up to be the ruler of all evil? He's the child of a Charmed One and a Whitelighter. He's _your_ son, Piper. He wouldn't. He couldn't."

"Yeah, we tried to tell Chris that, too," Piper snapped sarcastically. "Way ahead of you there."

"Then I don't understand," Penny said, forgiving her girl's attitude in her distress. "How — why would you believe him? If he was saying such horrible things, how could you possibly believe him?"

"That's just it, we didn't. We threw him out of the house. It wasn't until Phoebe went on some sort of vision quest thingy that she was able to figure him out. Even then, the two of them wouldn't tell us anything. Phoebe and Paige knew a lot more than I did. They didn't tell me who he really was until after he was conceived."

It was the word '_conceived_' that finally clubbed Penny over the head. Her eyes darted down to Piper's stomach before she could stop them, only to find the necessary evidence concealed behind a decorative pillow once again. As much as she had been following their entire conversation, it was finally occurring to her that Piper had been pregnant, and she had missed the entire thing. The realization found softly spoken words with an astounded, "He really is your son?"

"Well, yeah, Grams. He's downstairs with Paige and Dad and Wyatt right now."

"You know what I mean. It's just so . . . "

Piper half-laughed, half-snorted wryly at her grandmother. For whatever reason, she was suddenly struck the absolute lunacy of the conversation. They were talking about a twenty-two year old man being the son of her thirty-two year old body. The math of it alone was enough to make her head spin. It was (and she hated that it was the only word she could come up with at the moment) ludicrous, at best. Piper's head shook, her eyes wide with the same wonder and strangeness that had been the staple of her life for the last ten months, as she asked, "You think it's weird for you? Physically, he was only ten years younger than me. He was old enough for me — well, Paige, at least — to date. Until the morning after he was conceived and the three of them told me who he was, I could look at him and see an adult. He was perfectly capable of being a man, of doing things that men are supposed to do. I don't think he'd had a curfew in years. He could drink at the club, and considering that his bedroom was in the back office of the club, it was easy enough access that I'm sure he was able to lure an unsuspecting girl or two back there . . . Now that I think about it, _Ugh._ Remind me to blow up that couch when I go back to work."

Bad mental images burned into the minds of both of the Halliwell women, bumping and grinding away until both women blurted scarred _Ugh_s. As their expressions were mirrored in each other's faces, they looked away from each other, even more disgusted that their minds had gone to the same dirty, unbeckoned place. Grandmother and Granddaughter both subconsciously retched over the synchronized bad imagery. When they were finally able to look at one another again, they both had disgusted grins on their faces. As they had done so many times before, they giggled and echoed, "Never again."

Their laughs eventually died down to awkward sighs. Silence overtook them and the attic until it became too heavy for either of them to breathe. They both hitched in sighing breaths, prepared to say anything to fill the quiet. Seeing the other moving to speak, they both stopped and gestured permission to the other. After a quick round of _You-Go/No-You-First_, Piper settled back to give her grandmother room to do her thing and grandmother.

Penny's face took on a very rare form for her. She had spent her entire life dealing with darkness and loss. It was a Halliwell tradition, one that generation after generation had honored faithfully and all too well. It had, as had many other things, hardened a big piece of her heart. It had not and could not, however, touch that part of her that belonged to her girls. Piper was hurting. Nothing else mattered. It was her job then, as Piper's grandmother, to take that hurt away. Slowly and without any of her usual flair, Penny whispered, "It occurs to me, my darling, that I have yet to tell you just how sorry I am. Even though I know you called me to you because I am the only one to have been in your position, I know that I cannot even imagine your pain. Forgive me for not saying so sooner, but I truly am sorry for your loss."

Tears warmed Piper's eyes once again, but this time, she gratefully held them back. Her voice was husky, though, as the tears clutched at her throat, cutting off air as she said, "I miss him so much. I didn't think I was going to miss him this much." An angry, rueful bark escaped her, biting at the words and her heart. "Of course, he wasn't supposed to die, though. He's supposed to be home now, back in the future, happy and safe. He's supposed to be celebrating for himself that he saved his brother and the future and the family legacy. Instead, we don't even know for sure what's going on anywhere. We don't know where he is, if he's anywhere at all. We don't know if the future is safe, if Wyatt's safe. We don't know who is even on our side anymore. The worst part of all if it is that there is a little baby downstairs who I don't know how to talk to. I don't know how to look at him and not think of the man that he's going to grow up to be. I am terrified that I'm not going to be able to look at him without being sad or angry. I mean, technically, he's here. He's right here, downstairs, waiting for me to be his mother and do all of the things that I'm supposed to do as his mother. I just don't know how I'm supposed to grieve the man he's going to be twenty-three years from now when he's sitting here. I don't know how to do both at the same time."

Not really knowing if there was a right answer, Penny tried to offer one anyway. "But you've already given yourself the answer. Chris is still here. He needs his mother, no matter how old he is."

Feeling argumentative and not wanting to accept that as an answer, Piper fired back, "So I'm supposed to just move on? Chris is _dead_. There is no body for us to bury. There won't be a funeral or a headstone. One day, we are going to reach the day after he left the future and didn't come back. Then we're going to reach the day that should have been his twenty-third birthday and he didn't come back. When that day comes, he'll just be gone. There won't be any mark to say that he lived and was here and part of our lives. I won't be able to grieve for him _then _because he'll already have been dead for twenty-three years. So when is it going to be all right for me to mourn my son's death like every other normal human being does? It has to be okay at some point. After everything he did, after everything he went through, there has to be something for him. There has to be a piece of me for him."

Reassuringly, Penny once again grinned and took her granddaughter's furiously trembling hands in hers. "There is. You aren't going to forget him. You are always going to have the last twenty months with him, here in your heart. He isn't going anywhere."

"This isn't fair. He should have more than that."

"No, it isn't fair, but it is what it is. You need to be the best mother you can be for those babies downstairs because that's what Chris was here to do in the first place, to ensure that they would grow up happy and safe. Right? He made it safe for them. Now it's your job to make sure it stays that way."

Bitterly, Piper pouted. "So I'm just supposed to accept it all? Things are the way they are? I'm not supposed to think about any of it anymore and just move on. Damned if I do, damned if I don't?"

"That's not what I mean, Darling, and I think you know that."

"Do I? Because that's what it sounds like to me. It sounds like you're telling me that my son is dead, but I don't get to deal with that at all. Quite frankly, I need to do it. I do. I wasn't exactly the best mother that I could possibly be to him while he was here. I treated him so terribly sometimes. I have to be allowed to grieve and be angry and all of those things because, right now, I feel like it's the least I owe him for everything we put him through."

"It wasn't as bad as you think it was," said Penny, trying to be encouraging. She knew the effort was going to be thrown right back into her face, but she had to at least have said it. When Piper calmed down and remembered that she was usually right, it would make a lot more sense to her then. Until then, she knew she was going to be nipped at, and that was just fine with her if that was what Piper needed to do.

"How would you know," Piper snapped, filling her grandmother's expectations. "You weren't here. You didn't see. I really was a bad mother to him. I threw him out of the house so many times for stupid little things. I didn't just take his word for things when he told us about anything, especially when it concerned Wyatt. I was always suspicious of him. Yeah, I know that I had perfectly legitimate reasons to be suspicious, and just because I found out that he's my son doesn't make those suspicions any less valid. It just hurts because there were so many things that, when I look back on them now, I was so wrong to think or say."

"I'm sure Chris didn't think you were a bad mother."

Wanting more than anything at the moment to just be angry and fight with whoever would be willing to fight with her — and Grams, by default, had just volunteered — Piper shook her head and said defiantly, "I'm not? Honestly, I'm starting to wonder. Really, think about it: what do I — I don't know anything about him, Grams. I know he was alone and afraid enough in his own time that he risked his own existence to try to save his brother from becoming the ruler of all Evil, but that's about it. I don't know what he did for a living. Being a full time witch doesn't exactly pay the bills. Even if he could be made a full Whitelighter, the Elders don't exactly have a direct deposit program, either. I don't know what he did. I don't know what he wanted to do. I have no idea what my son wanted to be when he grew up. I refuse to believe that I didn't tell my children to have dreams of being something other than a witch. Magical though they may be, they deserve to be as normal as possible and have at least some semblance of a healthy, non-magical life."

Penny shrugged. She didn't want to dismiss her granddaughter's feelings, but the fact that she didn't know any of those things wasn't exactly a surprise to her. "Chris grew up in this family. He was a Halliwell. With all of the time travelling that has been done by the various members of this family, he no doubt had heard the lecture a thousand times over about revealing even the slightest thing about the future to anyone in the past. He knew the risks of being here. He had to. So naturally, one of those things that he knew was that he just couldn't reveal those things to you or it might influence his past too much."

"That's not the point," Piper barked. "You aren't listening to me!"

"I _am_ listening to you. I just don't see how, when you know the rules of time travel, you could possibly think that not knowing something about the future makes you a bad mother."

"It's not the not knowing that makes me a bad mother," argued Piper, clearly frustrated that her grandmother (and no one else in the house, for that matter) was not following her line of thought the way that she should be. She couldn't understand why no one else got it. How could they not? Hadn't they all just lived through the last twenty months, too? Painfully frustrated, Piper said angrily in accusation to herself, "It's the fact that I didn't even ask. I never tried to ask him any of it. I didn't even try."

"Piper — "

"Screw the rules, Grams," Piper finished for her grandmother before the ghost could even get the words out. The frustration brimming over in her, she flung the pillow away from her stomach, tossing it hard and fast away into the leg of the new old table that Chris had dug up for them to be used as the new scrying table after the Scabbar demons that had been hunting him down had destroyed the last one. The amethyst crystal that Paige had left on it rolled off the table to fall onto the floor. All it did was annoy her even more. Her eyes locked on the crystal on the floor as she ranted angrily, "He was alone here, Grams. All he had was me, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo. I bet that if you were to ask any one of them, they wouldn't have a clue about any of that stuff either. They wouldn't know his favorite color or his favorite song. We don't know any of the stories behind any of his scars. We don't even know what all of his powers were. We know he had a fiancée, but that's only because she came back here to try to kill him and almost succeeded. He never said anything about having any friends at all. I hope he still lived here in the house, but he never said anything about that, either. We don't know how he did in school or even what kind of school he went to. The thing is, it doesn't really even matter to me if the others knew any of those things, because the fact is that _I_ am his mother; _I_ am the one who should have shown some goddamned interest and asked him. Me. I should have done it, and I didn't. In twenty months, the only things I managed to learn about my child are that he had a reason to hate his father and that his brother was the scourge of their time. Of course, neither of those things are as much about him as they are about Leo and Wyatt. I should have asked more about _him_, not about the events of the future. I'm his mother. I should have shown more interest in him and not his mission. Now he's gone and I won't have the opportunity to ever ask him those questions again. Damn it! Why didn't I ask?"

Penny just let her grandchild sit there and stew in her anger for a moment, knowing that that was exactly what Piper wanted to do anyway. It wasn't long, though, before the stew boiled over and Piper let her anger loose again.

"I want to go back and ask him, or find a way to figure out where the hell he is and ask him. It doesn't even have to be anything big. I just want to know _something_ about him that has nothing to do with anyone but him. I don't want it to be about his relationships to any of us. I'll gladly settle for his favorite movie, his favorite food, anything. I need to know at least something. He was my child yet I know nothing about _him_."

"You know the important things. You know that he grew up loving his family enough to come back here to save you. You know that, even with his brother supposedly becoming the ruler of all Evil, he still loved Wyatt enough to try to save him, too. You're a new mother, Piper. Some day you'll come to realize, when the boys are all grown up, that that's all you can really ask for. If you're proud of him, if you're proud of the man he was, that's all you can ask for."

"What if I want more?"

"Then you're going to spend the rest of your life being very frustrated and asking your kids for things that they cannot give you."

"Not for the kids that are still here, Grams. For the Chris that isn't here. What if he changed the timeline so much that he doesn't exist anymore the way he was? Leo said that Chris disappeared from his arms when he died. We don't know where he went. He just disappeared. It's not like when every other person dies. We generally know that there are only so many places that they can go. Granted, with any luck, the members of this family all go to the same place, but we don't know what happened to Chris. I want to believe that he's downstairs, safe in that little baby, or that he's managed to get to his future safe and sound, but he could just as easily be gone. I wouldn't even have a clue where to look. He could be out there, somewhere, waiting for us to come find him, and we might never know. If it's just over, if there is nothing else for him . . . " Piper stopped for a moment, bringing her fingers to the inside corners of her eyes to dab away angry tears that she really didn't want. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be angry. Tears did not go with angry, not right now. She took a deep breath and went on, explaining harshly, "I keep feeling like I'm just keeping time here. The world has gone on as normal. It didn't stop because he's gone, just like it didn't with Prue or with you or anyone else on this planet. It doesn't stop. Time won't even acknowledge that he was here. I don't understand how the world keeps turning when this stuff happens."

Soothingly, Penny sympathized, "No one does. If we knew, we wouldn't go through the pain."

"So in the meantime, the whole family is stuck in this little time bubble that — We aren't going forward. We're sort of stuck because we don't know where to go. Everything is . . . " Piper switched tracks of thought half of the way through her sentence, although she knew exactly why she had gone there, even if her grandmother was going to need a map to catch up with the random emotions her girl was going through. Piper plowed through, still angry, but snapping a little less. "Phoebe asked me once, when she first got her empathic power, why no one in the family wanted to own their own emotions. The funny thing is, right now, I'm wondering that myself. We're so good at telling each other what to think and feel, but we don't do it for ourselves. Paige is a wreck. You'd never know it to talk to her, but I can tell. Up until today, I was thinking that maybe she was just overcompensating, but now I'm starting to wonder. There is no way that she's this happy, I know it. She's a mess. Something happened that I don't know about, and she won't talk about it. Leo sort of knows, but I don't think he knows the whole thing. The thing is, I can't help her. I can't help her because I don't even have a clue how to help myself. Phoebe, she's falling apart, too. The only time we see her is when she's coming or going. Then there's Leo; I don't even know where to start with him. He's so lost that . . . They're all so lost. _I'm_ lost. This whole family is in pieces, and the one person who could fix it right now isn't even alive to do it. A letter sure as hell isn't enough to fix it. I thought, maybe, just for a few minutes this afternoon that it was, but it isn't. It's not even close."

"A letter?"

Piper struggled to push herself out of the all-too-comfortable sofa (it was so squishy and used that they were sure it had eaten people whole) and walked over to the podium to flip through the pages of The Book of Shadows, looking for the Goblins entry. On the drive back from the cemetery, Phoebe had realized that she had still been clutching on to Chris's letter throughout the conversation they'd had with Darryl. As they had talked about it on the way home, the two of them had agreed that, until they were all able to part with it, they would keep it in The Book. Somehow, they both had felt that it belonged there, a parchment monument to Chris's smart-ass but loving gesture. She had put the letter back in there after a few more readings, right after she'd returned to the attic. When she pulled it out of The Book, she had to hold it for a moment, feeling its realness, its presence. It felt like it was the only piece of him that he had left behind. Her fingers even lingered on it as she handed it to her grandmother, fearing letting it out of her grasp, as if letting it go was letting go of him.

Minutes later, when Penny finished reading the letter, she grinned at her granddaughter and reached for her hand once again. Tearfully she croaked, "I take it back."

"Take what back?"

"He was more than prepared to take care of you girls. Maybe not himself so much, but he loved you girls. From the looks of this letter, he knew exactly how to take care of you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Sadly, Penny added, "I wish now that I could have had a little more time with him post-slime. Do you really think Gideon was deliberately keeping me away from him all this time?"

Before Piper had a chance to answer, her youngest sister brightly swept into the room with a brilliance just short of psychotically chipper. "Hi, Grams! How's it coming up here?"

Piper immediately took note of the influx of exultation in her sister's demeanor and was concerned. She was beginning to wonder if Leo had anything to do with her sister's boundless energy. _Something_ had to have kicked it up a notch. Suspiciously, Piper asked, "I have a better question, honey: how's it going down there?"

Paige shrugged, either missing the tone or choosing to pretend it didn't exist. "Fine. Terrific. Come on, I got to have some quality Nephew Time. There's nothing better in the world than that." With a patented Paige smirk that they all knew so well, she clued them in on a little secret. "It's better than sex, I swear."

"Paige," Piper shrieked. "Those are my kids you're talking about!"

"_What_?" Paige waved her sister off and scoffed. "We read a few fairy tales, discussed Cinderella's fashion designer, and decided that no girl on this plane is going to be good enough for my handsome nephews, which means I will never get to see great-nephews. Christopher and Wyatt have both assured me that they will both make up for it by staying young and cute and non-evil for their entire lives. For now, though, Wyatt's awake, Christopher is sleeping, and they are both down in the living room with their spectacular grandpa and fabulous aunt as we speak."

Penny huffed, again, at the suggestion of Victor Bennett being anything other than a self-absorbed, inconsiderate, child-abandoning jackass. When Piper burned a hole through her head with an intense glare that would have killed her if she weren't already dead, Penny reluctantly gave in. "Sorry."

Paige stretched her hands down to her grandmother and helped pull her up out of the sofa. Once Penny was standing up at her full height, granddaughter enveloped grandmother in a tight, loving embrace. Paige grinned over her grandmother's shoulder and said affectionately, "It's okay, Grams. It's good to know that you haven't entirely given up the man-hating ghost. One or two of them couldn't hurt."

"Hey," Piper argued.

Breaking their embrace, both Penny and Paige grumped, "What?"

"I realize that Grams promised to see the error of her ways after the last man she came up against and that one or two isn't bad considering a lifetime of male bashing," Piper conceded, thinking back to the day of Wyatt's Wiccaning and how her grandmother's misguided hatred of all things with male parts had almost cost them all everything. She knew, after a lifetime of living with Penny Halliwell, that it had taken a great deal for Grams to realize what her attitudes had done in the shaping of her girls' lives. That Grams was willing to cut it down to one or two victims of her wrath was certainly an improvement. However, as she pointed out to her sister and grandmother, "But does it have to be members of the family?"

Still exuberant, but with an unmistakable heat burning underneath, Paige seethed with a dazzling grin, "Fine. Grams, no hating of men in the family will be tolerated. If, however, you want a list of men who it is acceptable to direct your burning and understandable hatred toward, I can offer you a fairly wide range. I'll compile the list later, but to get you started off, there's Gideon, Barbas, any one or ten of the Elders, the doctor who almost let Piper die, Darryl Morris, the guy who owns the hot dog cart outside my old office . . . "

Piper's inwardly admitted amused irritation with her sister's encouragement toward activities of a misandrous nature turned to sisterly concern as Paige turned an unnaturally bright shade of red while she continued to rant without noticing that neither of the other women were paying her any attention. Piper exchanged a brief look with her grandmother, who seemed to have noticed the same problem as she had and confirmed her own worry. Softly, Piper took a chance, reached a soothing hand into her sister's, and interrupted, "Uh, Paige, honey?"

As if she had no idea that she had just completely burst out in nearly feral anger, Paige happily chirped, "Yeah?"

"Darling, are you feeling all right," Penny asked.

Smile as dazzling and toothy as it could be, Paige waved them both off. "I'm fine. I just have a lot to do and only twenty-four hours in a day to do things in. Speaking of which, I was just stopping in to say '_Hello_' and give you an update on the boys before I take off for the night. I told Ray I'd be back at the club by now to deal with the band. They're probably already there and wondering where the owners are as it is." She excitedly wrapped her arms around her grandmother's shoulders again, squeezing painfully hard. "So it was good to see you, Grams. I'll talk to you later if you're still around by the time I get the club closed up for the night." Next, she reached over and hugged Piper. "And you: the boys are fine. Phoebe is down there with your dad about to tell him about Chris. Okay? Have fun, you two. I'll see you later."

With a dizzying flare, Paige orbed out of the attic. Piper called after her worriedly, "Make sure you orb into the office, please!" With a frustrated flap of her hands, she directed her attention back to her grandmother. "See what I mean?"

"She's a little on the happy side, certainly, but I don't think I would necessarily call her '_a wreck_'."

"Well, I would. We're talking a ten car pileup in the middle of the freeway here, and she's the lead car. Phoebe is right behind her. Leo is, too."

"You are," Penny finished a little suggestively.

"Am not," Piper said defensively. "I'm far from being a wreck. I'm not even a fender-bender. I have a flat tire, tops."

Penny didn't even bother trying to argue with her granddaughter. She just stared at her, a single eyebrow raised until Piper talked herself into agreeing with her grandmother. It worked every time.

"I'll be fine, Grams. I will. I needed to vent, and now that I have, I'm ready to go back to taking care of everyone else again. Someone in this house has to have a level head, and since they're all cracking up, it's my turn to do it. I swear, I don't know how Prue always did it, the big sister thing. It sucks. I want my old job back, but I know I can't have it. So I have to be fine. I will be fine. I know that that completely goes against everything I've been telling you for the last hour, but I will. I guess I. . . I need to find a way to tell him that I'm not okay without him. I want him to know that I loved him, and that there is a hole in my heart now that he's gone. I don't think I ever gave him a reason to think that I . . . "

In that special Grams way that she had, Penny interrupted by cupping Piper's chin and bringing her girl's eyes up to meet her own. She smiled, knowing the answer before she even asked the question. "Darling, did you tell him you loved him?"

Piper didn't say anything in response, but her head moved in that way that anyone in the family would recognize as an unwilling admission that the person she was talking to was right in their assumption. She looked down at the floor, not wanting to see the all-knowing look that she knew was on her grandmother's face. She didn't want her grandmother to be right. She hated it that Grams had, for most of her life, always had the right thing to say and always seemed to know the answers. But then, that was why she had called her grandmother in the first place. She just needed to hear it.

Seeming to know what Piper was thinking, Penny said what Piper's heart was saying, even if her head wouldn't allow her to admit it just yet. "Then he knows. If, after everything that you all went through down here, you still told him that you loved him, he knows it and probably wouldn't have asked for any more than that. In fact, I'm willing to bet that when I go back and tell him what you've said to me today, he'll be mad at you for thinking you're a bad mother."

"Wait a minute! You've seen him? Grams! You have been sitting here acting like you had no idea about any of this and you've _seen_ him?"

Immediately, Penny threw her hands up defensively in front of her, blocking off some invisible heat that was coming from Piper's newly rekindled fire. "No, Piper, I haven't. Calm down."

"Then what was that supposed to mean? Hmm?"

Penny waved a dismissive hand, as if her explanation wasn't nearly as important as Piper was going to want it to sound or be. "All I know is that your mother, your sister, your grandfather, and I were sitting down to a friendly game of poker with a few of the angels that we've come to know over the years. One of them, an angel of Death, was called away. We dealt him out of the game, but not long after we did, he came back for your sister. Neither of them have been back since. I'm just wondering, now that you've told me what you've told me, if maybe they're with Chris. Clarence said we shouldn't expect them back for a while because the person they were going to meet was a special case and was going to require some extra time to deal with. They took the other two angels with them as well. I don't know. It's entirely possible, anyway. With this family, anything is possible."

"Well, can't you find out? This is important!"

"You know that even if I did find him there, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The rules don't change just because we want them to. It's been four years yet They still aren't ready to allow you to see Prue. I highly doubt that They would allow you to see Chris."

"Oh, They _can_ and They _will_. They owe us. We have always been good and done things the way They wanted them done. When They wanted to break Leo and I up, we agreed to Their terms instead of our own. We had to have Their permission to get married, for God's sakes. Normal people don't have to go through that kind of thing, but we did it because those were '_The Rules_'. We continued to fight off every single demon that came crashing through that front door because it was '_Our Destiny_'. When Prue died, we continued on, even though we didn't want to right away. We've obeyed the '_No Prue_' rule. We've given up husbands and boyfriends. We've given up a sister. I've now given up a son. And for what? It was an Elder who murdered my son in an effort to kill my other son. We're just lucky that Wyatt was able to protect himself for as long as he was. We are _so_ lucky. I could have lost them both. Oh, yeah, you can bet your sweet ectoplasmic ass that They owe me that much! They owe me the chance to know that my son is all right. Personally, I'm ready to drop this entire Destiny thing once and for all if They don't show me a little cooperation this time."

"Piper — "

"No. I want to see my son, and I want to see him right now!"

Piper's hand came slapping down emphatically on her thigh, but the sound was easily drowned out by the sounds of splintering wood. Ten feet away from them, an energy ball had rammed into the music stand podium that was the home of The Book. The support beam was splintered in two, toppling book and shelf to the floor.

Instinctively, Piper threw her hands out to freeze the room then leapt to her feet, forgetting that she was only nine days out of surgery. Her eyes flew open wide in bright, whitening pain as she fell back to the couch, her knees suddenly very weak and unable to hold her up. Her hand reached for the wound along her stomach, trying to soothe the pain away as she took her grandmother's hand to pull her back up. She breathed in and out in short, hard breaths in further attempt to steady herself. As soon as she was sure she could stand on her own, she waved her grandmother toward the fallen podium. She instructed the ghostly lady, "Get The Book. Don't let it out of your sight."

Penny didn't need to be told twice. That book was the source of the family's legacy, the heritage of the Halliwell family line. Passed down through the ages, it was in many ways another part of the family. More importantly, it had saved them all more times than any one of them could count. While The Book of Shadows was perfectly capable of protecting itself from Evil, that energy ball had seemingly come out of thin air. Any attacker with the power to throw energy balls and do it completely unnoticed by either herself or her granddaughter was an attacker that could not be taken lightly. Protecting The Book from being even threatened by that attacker was not a chance to be taken.

In the meantime, Piper's eyes narrowed, and through a minefield of swirling colors in front of her eyes from the brightness of the pain, she scanned the room for any sign whatsoever of what could have sent the energy ball at The Book. As she searched, she secretly thanked whatever it was that had sent the damned thing that it was such a lousy shot. Plenty of demons had tried to take The Book before, but they had never missed so drastically before. Sarcastically, she called out to the invisible and hopefully frozen perpetrator, "Sorry, pal, you may be good, but our book is better. I'd work on my aim a little if I were . . . y-you . . . "

The freeze broke on the room and a vivid flash of light followed by the strange darkness that happens whenever a bright light is quickly taken from a room took over the space of the attic. Piper's eyes darted toward the wall where the triquetra portal had collapsed on itself and become nothing more than a chalk outline. She had to blink a few times to get the remaining colors out of her way and to allow her eyes to adjust again to the changed light levels in the room.

"What the hell," she asked herself out loud. She took one last deep breath to force herself to regain her focus and send all of the physical distractions out of her head. When she could see normally and breathe normally and do all of those things that she had to remind herself to do these days, she turned to her grandmother and asked, "Grams, did you see anything come through the portal? Who the hell is throwing energy balls at us through a portal? No wonder he can't aim."

"I don't think he was aiming for you or The Book, Piper," Penny told her softly. In that special way that Penny had of gesturing, she waved her hand down in a circle and directed her girl's attention to the floor. "Apparently, your wish is granted."

As was the trend in her life of the last six or seven years, Piper was once again rendered completely speechless. Splayed with his back on the floor, looking very much alive and completely oblivious to the two women in the room with him was Chris. He was in a jacket and tie — which was just plain wrong — and there was blood, a lot of blood, on his hands and white dress shirt, but he was there. Chris was there and moving and alive.

Piper couldn't make her mouth work as she watched him. He opened his eyes and craned his neck up to look toward the wall, and seeing that the portal was closed, he let his head fall back to the wooden floor, closing his eyes again. He heaved a huge sigh, although it didn't sound all that relieved to his mother. In fact, it sounded a lot more worried, almost nearing panicked levels than it did relieved. Then, without seeming to see her, Chris sat up, propping himself up on his elbows.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, _come on_," he whispered desperately at the wall. Darkly, he warned the wall, "Damn it! You had better be right."

That said, Chris was enshrouded with a haze of bluish orbs that whisked him away to some unknown destination and out of Piper's still-shocked sight.

"_Chris_," Piper squeaked out, barely even a whisper. That was him, right? That had been him? She wasn't just imagining it or anything. She had seen Chris. He hadn't seen her, but she'd seen him. That . . . that had to have been him, right? She had never seen him in a suit, so he couldn't have been a hallucination. He was solid, not transparent like every other ghost she had ever seen (except when Mom and Grams deliberately became corporeal). Was that possible? Was he really real? Her eyes wide with lost panic, Piper turned to the source of all answers and just plain asked, "Grams?"

"I saw him, too," Penny slowly confirmed. Everything about her body language said that she was as bewildered as her granddaughter. A more solid answer was going to have to come from someone, something, or someplace that was else.

Purely out of habit, Piper did the thing she always did when things made absolutely no sense. "LEO!" She then called for reinforcements, dashing as quickly as she could post-surgery to the attic door and hollered down the stairs for her sister to join them. "PHOEBE! Get up here and bring the boys. Don't let them out of your sight!"

Floating up from somewhere down the stairs, Phoebe's voice shouted up, "What's wrong?"

"JUST DO IT!" Piper spun back around on both heels, carefully hanging onto the doorjamb as she did (just in case the bright dancing spots decided to come back). She marched across the distance to where the chalk outline on the wall still waited to be used. She touched the wall, feeling along the lines to see if it was in any way still open enough for any other energetic or fiery-type things trying to come flying at them out of the blue. Satisfied that the wall was once again solid, she walked over to where she had last seen her son (her fully alive and bloody son) on the floor. She didn't say anything, but waved her grandmother over to her emphatically, reaching her hand out to have Penny help her with her balance as she bent down to inspect the floorboards for any sign as to why Chris had been bleeding. There were a few spots of blood that must have dripped off his hand, but nothing significant had pooled there. She tugged on her grandmother's hand, warning her ahead of time that she had better anchor herself because Piper was going to need all the help she could get climbing back up from her crouched position. (Randomly she thought, "_Man, I can't wait to get my real body back_!") She grunted as her grandmother back-peddled enough to counter the weight of them pulling on each other. Once they were both standing again, Piper swept her hair out of her way to reveal overly large, generally freaked out eyes. In her frustration, she yelled, "DAMN IT, LEO! PHOEBE, HURRY UP!"

A slightly cooler head prevailing, Penny soothingly said, "Darling, yelling isn't going to get them here any faster. Calm down. We'll figure this out."

"Did you miss the blood, Grams? Because he was bleeding and more than likely because he got hit by either the energy ball that tried to take out The Book or one just like it. That is not going to make me calm. And I'll goddamned YELL IF I WANT TO!"

Enveloping her stubborn granddaughter into her Book-free arm, Penny held Piper hard to try to calm her down. "We'll figure this out."

Into her grandmother's shoulder, Piper breathed, "He's hurt."

"Lucky for us we have an in-house healer."

"If I knew where he was," Piper grumbled in a snit. She pulled her head back enough to yell her husband's name at the top of her lungs once again, only to be disappointed when she didn't see the floaty balls of light signaling his arrival again. She glanced quickly at her grandmother, who had brought a finger up to her ear and was rattling it around in there to correct the ringing Piper's shout had produced. She quickly apologized sheepishly, "Sorry, Grams. I just . . . Where _is_ he?"

"Until he answers your call, we have to assume that he isn't going to. What we need to do then is get Paige back here and get the three of you working on this. The sooner we figure out where Chris went, the sooner we find out what is going on with him and everything else. All right? So take a deep breath for me then do whatever you need to do to get yourself in the mood for work because it's time to earn your lousy paycheck for the day." With that, Penny glanced toward the door and let loose a holler of her own. "PHOEBE! I KNOW I'M DEAD, BUT I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"

Grandmother and granddaughter grinned goofily at one another as Piper nodded her head sharply in the witchly Halliwell bonds of solidarity. "Thanks, Grams."

"I see that Phoebe is still consistently the last one out the door, whatever we're doing. Some things will never change."

"I heard that," Phoebe's voice called from just around the door frame. She entered the candlelit attic a split second later, balancing a very unhappy looking Wyatt on her hip. She was followed by a wary looking Victor with the sleeping Christopher in his arms. Phoebe quickly scanned the room, saw the splinters of what remained of the podium, and immediately turned to her father. "You might want to rethink those retirement plans, Daddy. Here, take Wyatt, too."

Phoebe shuffled Wyatt around in her arms while her father maneuvered Christopher a little so that he could take both of the boys into his arms. Once his grandsons were safely tucked in his arms, Victor looked around the room for the safest place for them to stay out of the girls' way. He nodded gratefully when Phoebe directed him to the sofa closest to the attic door. To the boys he said, "C'mon, guys. It's time for the grandpa and the children to stay out the way so the women can do their work."

Victor and Penny shared a mutual huff.

"You, can it," Piper snapped at her grandmother. She then turned to her father. "You, too. I'm warning you both right now: I don't have time for your issues. So either you be quiet and help me out when I ask for it, or you both can spend the rest of the night in separate corners. Got it?" Without waiting for their indignant answers, Piper then waved at her sons with her best _We're in trouble, but I'm not going to let you know that even though you know it anyway_ smile. "Hey there, my little misters! Mommy needs to work for a while, so you just take care of your super awesome grandpa for me, okay?"

With more than a little irritation that Piper was playing ring master instead of super witch, Phoebe rolled her eyes at her grandmother and father. "You guys got that? Great. Then my sister can tell me what the hell is going on up here."

The sarcasm drip in full flow, Piper gestured dramatically and snapped her head around with tight lips to punctuate her words as she explained. "Uh, well . . . Something managed to toss an energy ball at we aren't sure what because we were too busy noticing my dead child sitting here in the middle of the floor with blood all over himself."

"Blood? What? Huh?"

Phoebe started looking around the room a lot more closely, inspecting everything around her sister and grandmother. Chris was here? That hardly made any sense. She looked again toward what remained of The Book's home and was even more confused. Unfortunately, she didn't get to hear the explanation from her sister. There was something about the light of the room and the way the candles had flickered for just an instant that gave her a strange sense of Déjà Vu. Unbeckoned and unwanted, her mind was distracted away from the immediacy of the situation into one that didn't seem anywhere near as urgent but just as dangerous. Thrown into the memory that the light recalled, one that she knew without even thinking was not her own, Phoebe felt the hair raise on the back of her neck.

The room was still dark with candles being the only light. She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, watching the candles burning and studying a strange velvet rope that cordoned off half of the attic space when a deep voice startled her from behind. "_Those candles are against the fire code. You should probably put them out._"

Phoebe heard herself, or rather, Chris saying, "_Since when do you care about rules?_"

The male voice didn't answer the question, but somehow she knew that Chris had not expected an answer. He sat there without turning around to greet the speaker or anything. He simply waited for whoever the speaker was to make a deliberately slow walk around him until they were side by side, the speaker standing and Chris not bothering to get up. She couldn't explain it, but she knew that Chris had been incredibly conflicted at actually seeing the person. There had been intense anger there, but a certain nostalgia had creeped up on him, too. He had not liked either feeling, and neither did she.

The sound of the man's voice grated on Chris's bones as he said, "_What are you doing here, Little Brother?_"

"_What do you think: is this grand opening shindig going to be a black tie thing? 'Cause, you know, I left my tux at the cleaners before your flunkies blew it up, and don't have time to get a new fitting._"

The man at Chris's side dropped down, balancing on the balls of his feet and sounding not at all happy about having had to stoop to Chris's level to say his piece. Angrily, the man warned, "_I don't have time for this, so say what you have to say so we can get this over with._"

_"It's still my house, too, Wyatt, no matter what you do to it."_

"What? Why did you say that?"

Realizing that it wasn't Wyatt — _oh man, that was Wyatt?_ — but Piper right in front of her face talking to her, Phoebe shook her head and tried to refocus herself on her sister instead of this strange encounter that Chris had had with his brother. Careful not to look anywhere but directly at Piper, with her eyebrows raised she asked, "Huh?"

From the sofa, Victor softly called, "Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daddy," she answered. To everyone she said, "Why are you asking?"

Piper repeated rather impatiently, "Why did you say that?"

Seeing all of the eyes in the room on her, Phoebe was startled. Knowing that she wasn't exactly going to be getting answers from her father or the Under Two Crowd, she put her question toward her sister and grandmother, this time actually giving it more words than grunts. "Why did I say what?"

"You said, '_It's my house, too, Wyatt,_' and something else that I didn't quite catch," Piper explained.

_And that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly why I've been hiding away from the family during this_, Phoebe silently grumbled at herself for getting caught having one of Chris's memories. In order to change the subject, she stepped away from her sister's glare and walked around the room, looking for any other indications of what was going on. Willing herself to stay focused and keep Chris out of her head, she asked, "If he was here, where did Chris go?"

"Where did _you_ go," Piper retorted.

"Nevermind," said the middle sister emphatically, shaking the last of this latest burst of memory out of her with a shiver of her shoulders. "It's nothing, and it doesn't matter. Now what's going on with Chris? You said he was bleeding?"

Before Piper got a chance to answer her sister, they were all blinded by a flash of light. Immediately, Penny encircled both of her arms around The Book again, just in case. Phoebe turned quickly toward her father and nephews to warn them, but Wyatt had already blanketed them with the safety of his protective shield. She exchanged a brief look of mild confusion with her father before turning her attention back to the further-expanding portal. As a second flash of light blared through it, she tripped over her own feet, trying to get out of the way of whoever or whatever was going to come through it next.

"Oh, what now," Piper groaned when she saw the bursting light, throwing her arms up in the air in complete and utter frustration. She was certainly starting to think that the shenanigans were nowhere near ending. She had better things to do than this. She needed to be out there finding out what the hell was going on with her son, and then figuring out what the hell was going on with her sister (in that order), not standing there waiting like one of those girls handing out the leis when people come off the plane in Hawaii. She glared angrily at the portal, as if it was the portal's fault that her evening was erupting in chaos. As soon as the body came through the glowing blueness, she knew it definitely was not the portal's fault — and she was not in the least bit happy about it.

Leo stepped out of the portal to find his ex-but-not-exactly-ex wife, her grandmother, her father, and her sister all staring at him, creating an invisible wall, and it wasn't to greet him happily. He blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting anyone to be there waiting for him. Considering the warning that Piper had given him before she had left to go meet Darryl, he knew it was probably safe to assume that she was not going to be all that happy when she finally said something to him.

"Hi," Piper snapped, even though her face looked like she was the perfect Samantha welcoming her Darrin home from a hard day of work in Phoebe's beloved "_Bewitched_". She kept the happiness on her face as she growled, "Caught the late portal home today, dear? I suppose that first one was a little full, what with the boy and energy ball and all."

His eyebrows raising in an all too familiar defensive gesture, Leo began, "I can explain."

"You bet your ass you're gonna find a way to explain this, Mister, and you'd better do it fast."

"Piper . . . "

The façade of happiness dropped sharply from Piper's face, unable to keep up the appearance of wifely perfection any longer. Her lips barely moved at all as she struggled to control herself from yelling, "And then you can tell me how in the hell you left us alone when I specifically asked you not to."

"Look, I had to — "

"Bring Chris home?"

There was no mistaking the change in Leo at the question. He suddenly didn't see Piper at all, or anyone else in the room, for that matter. His manner became deliberate and calculated, wanting and taking only what he needed to know. The rest was going to have to wait. He had to work. Urgently he asked, "You saw him?"

Not liking the change that came over her husband, Piper's voice remained snappish, wanting to keep the control she had and keep up the fight. Fighting was a lot easier to deal with than the panic, and if it meant fighting with Leo, well . . . She'd had enough practice over the last year that it wasn't exactly hard to do anymore. Sarcastically, she bit, "Uh, yeah. Grams and I did. He was _bleeding_, Leo. He had blood all over his hands and his shirt. So you better figure out . . . "

Without noticing anyone else in the room as his eyes darted over every inch of it during Piper's tiny rant, he swore in frustration. "Damn it."

"Don't you '_damn it_' me, Mister," snapped the wife, not realizing that Leo's utterance had nothing to do with her. "What the hell is going on? My son, who is supposed to be dead, came crashing through the wall — followed by an energy ball, by the way — without any sort of . . . "

Jumping in, Leo asked, "Was anyone hurt?"

Phoebe looked at her brother-in-law like he was half off his rocker. "Are you missing the part where she just told you he had blood all over him? Leo! What the hell is — "

"I have to go," said Leo unapologetically.

"Oh, no, you don't!"

Both Penny and Phoebe shouted in the completely incredulous Piper's stead, "LEO!"

"Not now," Leo barked. With that, he orbed out, leaving his family behind to fume in their stunned anger.

"Did he just bail on us, _again_," Phoebe asked to no one in particular. When she realized that Leo wasn't there to answer her, she muttered the answer to her own question. "Of course he did. _Un_believable."

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	4. A Love Without End, Amen

**Chapter Four  
Daddies Don't Love Their Children Only  
****Every Now and Then**

**I.**

_I do believe in spooks._

Christopher was cold, terribly cold. The wind was cold_er_. The rain was even colder. Together they were hard and angry, whipping around him and whispering taunts in his ears. He tried like hell not to listen, but the howl was just too loud. And it was right. Maybe he was overreacting just a tinge, but he was pretty sure that it was telling him all about how he had failed. He had, after all. He had failed, and now there were more ghosts in the air, all of them warning him that the deathly cold would be much more permanent if he didn't turn back now.

_I do believe in spooks._

He closed his eyes against the chill until he could clear the darkness from his mind. He just had to tell himself that everything was going to work out, right? If he did his job the way he was supposed to, there would no longer be anything for him or anyone in the family to be afraid of, ever again. He had to believe that. There was a family in the future counting on him to believe that. The new generation of Halliwells needed him to believe that. He had made promises that he would fix it all, and Christopher, even with all of his doubts and insecurities, had no intention of letting any single one of them down.

_I do, I do, I do, I do believe in spooks._

He would fulfill those promises, whatever it took. That didn't mean, however, that he wasn't allowed to have at least a minute or two for himself to doubt and fear like everyone else. If he thought about it for too long, he knew he wouldn't come back from it, but if he gave himself a quick minute . . . two minutes . . . okay, five minutes to worry, it wasn't going to hurt anyone. They wouldn't ever have to know. Besides, he needed to have the anxiety attack now, _before_ they rejoined him there on the bridge top. He needed time to freak out alone so that he wouldn't do it in front of them. He knew they needed him to be calm, to have answers, to know what to do next. The family, especially the kids of the family, had always looked to him for grounding that he somehow seemed to be able to provide. He didn't know why or how, and although it did at times annoy him, he came to accept that it didn't matter why. All that mattered was that they needed it. He knew his father was going to need it when they arrived. With the baby on the way and already worried about his mother, she was going to need his calm more than ever for the both of them. So to freak out now, to be afraid and doubtful now was his only option.

Truth be told, Christopher didn't want to control himself at all. He wanted a full-on, nothing held back, freak out panic. He wanted more than anything to let go, be a normal human being, and be afraid of all of the unknowns. He wanted to scream and throw a fit, if that could in any way make it better. Right now, a lot needed making better.

_I'd turn back if I were you._

So far, nothing had gone the way that it was supposed to. His brilliant plan had been a spectacular failure. He hadn't gone back as far in the timeline as he had planned. In fact, he had missed the day by at least nine months. His father knew he was coming and when, which pretty much blew the cover he'd been planning to use to get close to the sisters and Wyatt. Granted, taking Leo's potion back instead of the spell as he had been ordered had looked at the time to be the only way to keep everyone alive, but that still didn't make it any easier to accept. He wasn't When he needed, to be and he was stuck there until they could resolve the situation. Of course, he didn't even know for certain what the situation _was_. He had had to leave them in the future, subject to the gods only knew what. As much as he would like to believe otherwise, Wyatt could have done anything to them, and he would have no way of knowing whatsoever.

Damn it. Why couldn't somebody else's brother be the ruler of all Evil?

He knew that that was the real cause of his chill, more than anything else. It wasn't the dark November night or the altitude of his perch above the cars on the bridge. It was The Unknown. The not knowing if they were going to meet him now, later, or ever was gnawing away through his bones, and it was next to unbearable. He wouldn't have to worry about it at all if he had just waited. If he had argued a little more forcefully with his father, if he had tried harder to find another way so that the three of them had left together, he wouldn't be needing to panic at all. But he _had_ left them, and damn it all, he was going to panic.

"Where are you," Christopher muttered into the wailing cold. "Don't do this to me. Where the hell are you?"

It had been too long. There was no . . . It had been too damned long. Something had gone wrong, and they couldn't get back. Wyatt — Wyatt had done something to keep them from following him. That had to be it. He had to go back. It was the only way to save them. He couldn't risk Wyatt hurting their father. But if he did, if he went back to his life in the future, he wouldn't be able to come back to the past a second time. Wyatt would be expecting it and wouldn't take the chance of letting his brother out of his sight. If he went back to the future, that was it; all of this would have been for nothing. If he went back, he couldn't even be sure of what he would be going back to. They could both very well be dead. Damn it! Why had he listened to his father? Hadn't he even told Leo that he didn't need a father? It was so stupid. He never should have given in to sentimentality and taken the man's advice. He had a plan. He should have stayed with the plan. Why hadn't he seen this coming? He should have seen this coming. It was _his_ plan. He was supposed to protect them, protect her. Why did he leave? Where were they? How much longer was he supposed to sit and wait for an answer to even one of his questions?

_I'd turn back if I were you._

Christopher didn't want to wait any longer. He was far too nervous. His feet were twitching, wanting to orb right back to the house. His father had come to the future using a potion so the sisters had to have written the recipe down _somewhere_, and if his mother was still the creature of habit that she had always been in his lifetime, then he was pretty sure he knew where the recipe and ingredients for another potion would be. He could make more, as soon as he knew that the attic would be clear. He couldn't sit there and wait, though, not like this. If they didn't orb in in the next five minutes, he would go back. He'd been waiting and pacing and freaking out and cold for long enough. Five more minutes was going to be overkill, but it was necessary. Five minutes was more than enough time.

Five minutes was more than enough time for a lot of things.

Five minutes had been enough time for Darklighters to take his father away from him when he had only been six years old. Five minutes had been enough time for his mother to be gutted by a demon while he and Wyatt were distracted, leaving the family ill-prepared and defenseless and grieving. It had only taken five minutes for the doctors to tell Victor that he was about to leave his grandchildren alone in the world with no one but Christopher left to look after them. It had taken Christopher five minutes to regain his breath after punching his Whitelighter out two days ago because he hadn't had anywhere else to direct his grief when his grandfather had shuddered his final breaths. Five minutes was, in fact, more than enough time for the world to collapse until time wouldn't matter at all.

Still, at least adding up all of the things in his mind that had taken up five minutes to accomplish in his lifetime had sucked up probably a good thirty seconds of his time. Four minutes and thirty seconds to go . . .

It had taken him five minutes to realize that, as he climbed up out of the caves that day, that his cousin Sam or his best friend Ben wouldn't be following him up after the battle with the demon. They had all grown so accustomed to not saying anything after a kill, because they never wanted to take anything lightly, even the death of a demon. Wyatt might take those things in stride, but they wouldn't. So it hadn't even occurred to him, as he dragged himself up the path, too tired to orb out, that he was doing it alone. It was then that he spent the last five minutes on the way out thinking about how he was going to tell his grandfather that Paige's last child was now gone as well . . . Four minutes and seven seconds to go . . .

It had taken him five minutes to figure out that Patsy, his cousin, wasn't just pretending when he found her lying on the ground next to the dead demon in their backyard. She had been the first of the kids to die at the hands of their magical, demon-saturated world. She wasn't even close to being the last. It had taken him five minutes of just sitting on the ground next to her to be able to find the strength of voice to call for help. It had taken his mother another five minutes to pull him away. She had been only four years old . . . Three minutes and fifty-two seconds to go . . .

It would probably take him five minutes to figure out that this entire list would be a lot easier to tolerate if he were to focus on the good things in his life that had taken five minutes instead of the bad things, but then, it would probably take five minutes just to find one of the good things . . . There went eight seconds. Three minutes and forty-four seconds to go.

It was just as Christopher had given up caring about the time at all that bluish orbs invaded the space next to him, rescuing him from the panic of passing seconds. The orbs stuttered for a moment before finally taking his father's strong, all-too-long absent form. For a moment, Christopher was so overwhelmed with relief at seeing the orbs that he wanted nothing more than to hug his daddy. Then his stomach lurched, and he remembered that he hadn't had a daddy in a very long time. He needed someone he could depend on to do as he asked until he figured out how to get them out of this mess. Leo, missing father or not, had made him worry too much to be depended on just yet. It was suddenly all Christopher could do to keep from slugging his father for making him worry like that. He settled instead for a very angry glare at the forming angel.

Leo didn't seem to notice the look at all. He was tense with fear, a kind of fatherly fear that Christopher could have in no way understood and (from the angered, pinched look on his boy's face) clearly didn't. With urgent, fatherly necessity, Leo asked before he was even fully formed, "Christopher? Are you all right?"

"What took you so long," Christopher blurted at the same time over his father's words, oblivious to the angel's concern in his own angered relief.

Without seeing his son's concern, Leo pressed the boy for the answer to his own question. "Are you hurt? Your mother said she saw blood and — " Upon examining the boy's hands and shirt, he saw the same evidence and panicked. He had to push down the bitterness in the back of his throat that accompanied the memories of the last time he'd seen his son covered in blood and what the final result had been. His hands were already glowing as he reached for Christopher — _It's the same side as before, the exact same spot _— and tried to heal his boy. "Christopher, you're bleeding."

"It's not mine. It's — " Christopher began distractedly but caught himself before he could reveal any information that he'd told himself over and over that he couldn't reveal. Shoving Leo's hands away, his head whipped around either side of his father. When he didn't see what he was looking for, he turned uncomprehendingly to his father. "W-where is she?"

Reaching again for the blood stains — _oh man, there's so much blood _— Leo pleaded, "Chris, c'mon, you can't — "

Christopher held his father's wrist firmly this time, trying to draw the man's attention away from the blood — _oh god, she had so much blood_ — and back to what he considered to be the problem at hand. "Leo, where is she?"

"Are you sure you aren't hurt," Leo asked, wanting a definitive answer to his question before he let any of this go any further. He knew that Christopher could not in any way understand what was going through his head, but that didn't make the answer any less important. Even if there wasn't all of the excess concern of what had happened to his son nine days ago, it was still important to know if Chris was in any way injured. He was still a parent, after all. Damn, his child was beyond obdurate. That absolutely came from his mother's side of the family. Not above borrowing Piper's stubbornness for moment, Leo firmly begged his son, "Chris, I know you have questions, but I can't answer them until I know that you're okay, so just tell me if you're all right. Please."

"Damn it, Leo, where is she?" Ignoring his father, Christopher looked around some more for any sign of the girl who had _always_ been at his side, from the days when they were just little kids getting yelled at for all of the sand in their shoes at the end of a summer's day. He couldn't do this without her. If his father should be concerned about any of them being hurt, his worry should be reserved for her. She was the one who had been bleeding. It was her blood on his hands. Why couldn't Leo see that? Then, somehow, the meaning of his father's stalling clicked in the back of Christopher's head. Enraged and almost disgusted by the implication, Christopher stepped back from his father with his mouth agape.

While his son was trying to find his words, Leo had to try to make his own mind put something, anything together that resembled a thought. Christopher was still referring to her as _Her_ and _She_. He didn't even have a name to go with her face, or with the blood and the arrow and the terrified look in her eyes as she had looked away from him to cast the spell to send him home. How was he supposed to explain everything that happened without even knowing who she was? Somehow, only knowing that she was family wasn't enough. It was certainly enough for his son, though, who had finally made his mouth form words and Leo wasn't all that sure that he was going to like them once he heard what his son had to say.

"You left her. You left her behind," Christopher said to himself, the implication dawning now on his voice as well as his mind. The more he said it, the angrier he got until he was almost yelling. His teeth shredded the words as they attacked his father. "You _left_ her? Are you insane? Did you miss the arrow that had her bolted into the wall? How did you not see that Wyatt is a psychotic egomaniac? I know I said he wouldn't kill her, but come on! Did you really think that you could leave her there and that he would just let her go? He's _going to torture her_, Dad! He's going to make her suffer for betraying him." Christopher started to advance on his father, angrily jabbing his pointed finger into the angel's chest until it turned into a fist. "You _promised_ me she would be okay. You _told_ me you'd keep her safe. _You promised me_!"

As Christopher left the fingers of one hand digging into his father's chest, with the other hand he reared back to clock the man. Having seen the other adult version of his son boil over in anger on several occasions, Leo was much more prepared for the motion this time. The father easily caught both of his son's wrists in his bigger, stronger hands. Ignoring the grimace of anger on his boy's face, Leo soothingly told him, "She'll be okay, Chris. We'll find a way to help her. We will. I promise. So let's get out of the rain and go home. We can straighten all of this out there instead."

"Screw you, Leo. With bells on," Christopher growled as he struggled to pull away from his father. The way the angel was talking to him so calmly was only making him more upset. He didn't want to be calm. He wanted to be angry. He should be angry. Damn it. He knew he should have stayed with the plan and not let Leo interfere. He _knew_ it. How in the hell was he supposed to get anything accomplished if he kept letting sentimentality take even the slightest control over his thoughts? He needed to be in charge and get things done. He'd already slipped too many times in their plan. Now she was stuck helplessly in the future, alone with Wyatt, and he was back in the past with his options quickly fading from him. Damn it. Damn Leo. Just . . . _Urgh!_ The urge to slug his father overtook him again, but Leo held fast to his wrists. Christopher struggled against his father's grip, snarling, "Let me go. I'm not going anywhere with you. I've had enough promises from you for one day."

Still trying to take some semblance of a control over the situation, Leo gently started talking to his son as if he were talking to a five-year-old with a skinned knee. "Chris, listen to me. She was okay when I left her. She was still bleeding, but she was still standing. She was still talking." When his son huffed at him with a '_You're nuts if you think that that's okay_'kind of tone, Leo opened his eyes a little wider for emphasis. Since calm wasn't working, Leo put his words back in a grownup tense and said pointedly, "If Wyatt was going to kill her, he would have done it in front of me so that I could tell you that he'd killed her. If he wanted to hurt her or hurt you, he would have made sure that you knew about it, but he didn't. I honestly don't think he's going to let her die. He's probably healed her by now. Everything he said tells me that she's going to be okay. He said he was taking her with him, wherever it is that he was going to be going to."

The news that she had been taken away from the manor didn't help Christopher at all as he knew Leo had hoped it would. It only served to make him more nervous. The deathly chill that he'd been fighting since he'd arrived on the top of the bridge finally overpowered him, shaking away any sense of control he had left. It was definitely time to panic. It was over before it had even begun now. It had all been for nothing. All of the planning and danger and fear had been for absolutely nothing. Christopher took advantage of his father's false sense that there had been any comfort to his words and wrenched his fists away from his father's earnest grip. That look on Leo's face only made it worse. The anger in him was punctuated by a black despair as Christopher furiously pointed out "You don't get it, Leo. It doesn't matter if he let her live or not. In our house or his, she's alone with him. She's alone with that thing that used to be my brother and against that, she might as well be dead. She's defenseless."

"I don't understand."

Unable to look at Leo — seeing his father alive was only making it harder for Christopher to see through his clouded judgement to make up his mind what to do next — he started pacing along the edge of the beam. He kept his eyes focused on a single cloud up in the sky where it was darkly hiding the star that he'd picked out as a child and created an entire story for that only he knew. It didn't make him feel any better, but at least it meant he had something else to look at. Maybe if he looked hard enough, he might be able to even see through the cloud to his star. He could hope. As he made a third go 'round, he explained, "Look, Leo, I . . . S-she isn't ready to take care of herself, especially not with the baby on the way. She can't. That's why she was coming with me instead of staying behind with Charlie. We knew that coming here to the past was dangerous, but staying there would be even dodgier for her. They weren't going to be safe if I left her there."

Confused, Leo argued, "But she has powers. I saw her freeze the room and recite a spell. She didn't look — "

"She _is_ _helpless_, almost completely helpless," Christopher reiterated. His pace quickened as he grew more frustrated, annoyed with his father's inability to hear him. Instead of trying to figure out how to help his family, he was stuck explaining things to his father that he really didn't know if he should be explaining in the first place. Still, he focused on where he knew his imagined star to be and tried to keep a level head long enough to explain. "There's just . . . There is so much that I can't tell you. If you know too much . . . Grams has warned us every single time we've talked to her about this that we have to be careful about telling you _anything_ that happens in your future. I've already told you so much more than I should have. You just — you have to take my word for it that she isn't ready to be on her own. Don't get me wrong. She's a Halliwell through and through, no question. There are circumstances that . . . She only just got her powers. She's as new to her powers as the sisters were when they first got theirs back when Phoebe moved home, but she doesn't have two sisters with her to help her out. The eight of us kids, our powers are different. Ours aren't tied to each other like theirs were. She's on her own now. She's got no back up if anything goes wrong, and her control of her power is spotty at best. She's definitely never been up against someone as powerful as Wyatt before. She won't be able to take care of herself or that baby."

"Why hasn't she had her powers? Your mother and I both agreed that we weren't ever going to bind your powers, and I know that Paige and Phoebe feel the same way about the kids that they want to have. Even with everything that's happened in our lives, magic is still a gift. Not a one of the girls would ever bind your powers. What happened?"

With an almost fond irritation, Christopher told his father, "She bound them herself, when she was eight. Wyatt and I both got hurt trying to protect her and all of the smaller cousins from a demon. Wyatt almost died. Samuel was able to heal us right away, but it scared her enough that she thought that if she didn't have her powers any more, she couldn't get people hurt. She made the binding potion and drank it before anyone even knew what she was doing." Despite himself, Christopher chuckled at the memory of the gesture and the chaos that had both preceded and followed it. "She is such a brat." He looked at his father for the first time without anger, sighed himself in for the long haul, and went on to finish the story he knew he shouldn't have told. At the moment he didn't care about the rules. His father deserved to at least understand what had happened. It was the least he could do. After all, as angry as he was at the situation, Leo couldn't have known that. He had to give the man that much. So lovingly he went on. "The sisters were furious with her, but they didn't make her unbind them. When she turns on the waterworks, you can forget about it. She can get anyone to agree to anything when she looks at you like that."

"I got that impression, yeah," said Leo, slowly crossing the beam to stand next to his son, who had stopped pacing long enough to stare off into the night. He jammed his hands into his back pockets and pursed his lips together (just short of a smile) before urging, "Go on."

Christopher glanced strangely at his father, the events of the last few hours finally coming together for him in his head now that his blood wasn't pounding in his ears. "Exactly how long were you up there in the attic watching us?"

Surprised at the sudden change of topic, Leo started. Confused, he said, "It wasn't too long before the two of you came up that I got there, so I saw that entire conversation. Why?"

"You said that you had an impression of her. It's just that, well, y-you must have heard a lot."

"Nothing that's going to change the course of the future, if that's what you're thinking."

"No, but . . . " Christopher stopped for a second, mentally replaying everything that was done and said before his father had been visible to them. It had all been benign, hadn't it? He had to be sure, though. Carefully he asked, "What did you think of her?"

Leo answered his son with a rather vague (from Christopher's vantage point), "I'm glad you aren't alone."

Chuckling lightly, Christopher mused, "Yeah, I think you'd like her. She's a pretty bright kid when she isn't, you know, shtupping our Whitelighter. You caught that part, right — her and Charlie?" As casual as the comment was, the thought of Charlie jarred Christopher back to the topic at hand, the image of his friend impaled with a black Darklighter arrow a little more than he could handle at the moment. Charlie was a part of that family waiting in the future for him to make everything better, and he wasn't helping Charlie or anyone else by sitting here picking on his family. Swallowing hard and running a bloody hand through his hair in frustration, Christopher asked miserably, "What in the hell were you doing there, Dad? Why?"

"Chris, I — "

"It's 'Christopher', and you promised me an explanation," Christopher snippily interrupted before his father could come up with an excuse not to fulfill that promise. He had to grip the back of his neck where his hand had settled to keep from being too quick to anger in his fearful frustration. The pressure reminded him of something that he remembered his father had always told him and Wyatt when they were little and fighting over a toy or something. _You'll get more flies with honey than vinegar, Boys. Don't ever forget that._ If ever there was a night when he wished he wasn't half-Whitelighter . . . Damned pacifist genes . . . Christopher squeezed just a little harder to keep himself from swearing as he said with tight teeth, "I need that explanation, Leo. Now. _Please_, but now."

Pointedly, Leo stared down at his son, asking once again for calm. "And I'm going to give it to you. Take a breath, _Christopher_ — Son — please. You need to give me a minute. You've had nineteen years to deal with the fact that I am dead to you. I've had nine days to deal with you being dead to me. So it would be nice if you'd cut me a little break here, okay?"

The things his father had said to him when they were in his attic had been so cryptic and random that Christopher had hardly paid them any real attention. He had been so focused on getting back to the past to save Wyatt and the rest of the family that anything Leo had said had pretty much gone in one ear and out the other. Now that he was here and looking at his father, waiting for an explanation, snippets of the argument between his father and grandmother were coming back to him. They didn't make a damn bit of sense, but they had both been fighting so strongly, it had to have been important. He suddenly wished he had been paying them a little more attention. Confused, all he could say was "What the hell are you talking about?"

Knowing that he was about to give up his only leverage in the conversation, Leo held its knowledge over his son's head one last time. "Tell me first that you're okay. That's a lot of blood, Christopher, and if any of it is — "

"Leo — "

The angel raised his hands and pushed the air down under them, hoping the suggestive calming gesture would quash his boy's impatient streak for a few minutes. "It's 'Dad', and what I have to tell you is going to take a while." Leo's hands opened peacefully again, as if he were negotiating something much more important than getting a simple '_Yes_' or '_No_' from his kid. Soothingly he said, "So if you're in any way hurt, you need to let me heal you before it gets worse. I know you don't understand right now, but it's a perfectly reasonable question if you're me right now."

"I'm fine, Leo. Really. I have a headache. That's it."

The angel looked his son up and down until his eyes immediately targeted a line of blood across Christopher's bicep that looked different from everything else. "Really," he asked pointedly. "Then what's that?"

Christopher strained his arm around, hissing under his breath with the sting of feeling the cut for the first time. He looked at it, startled at the redness that he had yet to feel. "Huh. That? That is nothing more than a scratch. I've had a lot worse, believe me. Don't worry about it."

"I'm your father, Christopher. I'm going to worry about it."

"Leo, please? I'm not going to let you heal this up until you tell me what's going on, so you better get talking."

Unable to hold his exasperation back any longer, Leo flung his arms in the air and burst out, "Would you listen to yourself? I am trying to help you, Christopher! I'm your father. I see you in pain and needing all the help you can get, but all you want to do is fight with me. Why can't you just accept that I am trying to do what is best for you? I swear, you are so much like your mother, it's just . . . "

"That's funny, because Mom and Grandpa always told me I got my argumentative streak from you."

"Would you stop? We're going around in circles here. We have done nothing but go over the same damned things since we were in the attic. Turn after turn, we're still in the same damned place. If you would just wait and quit arguing with me, we could stop this and figure out what to do next."

"Why am I the one who needs to stop? Can't you just let whatever this is that's got you so wound up go so that I can do what I came here to do? Why do I have to be the one to — "

Before he even realized he was doing it, Leo interrupted angrily, "One thing, Christopher. Can you just leave one thing unargued? Please? Just one. That's all I'm asking. This one time, give me an inch and maybe we'll actually manage to make it through this as a family instead of doing things the way you've been going for the last godforsaken year and half. All you ever had to do was give us a chance to help instead of being so damned stubborn at every turn. If you had, maybe the rest of us would have at least a little peace right now instead of . . . " _Falling apart_, he finished in his head. That was what they were doing, right? He was starting to wonder if he was the only one who was dealing with any of this at all. The '_Wait and See_' plan that Piper had and Phoebe's need to dash off to anywhere but home at every turn were just two signs that he was the only one thinking about any of this clearly. Having Christopher there wasn't going to help them there, but there wasn't anything that could be done about that now, except to use the situation to their advantage so that he could straighten his family out again. Then maybe they could all move on at least a little, here and in the future. That would mean that Christopher would actually have to listen to him, though, and if past and future experience told him anything, it was that his son wasn't going to listen to a damned thing that his father had to say. Before he realized he was snapping, Leo finished his thought out loud. "But that point is kind of moot, isn't it? It's not like I can save you. I never could."

"I don't need you to save me."

Leo snapped, "Really? You think so? Why don't you say that to your aunt and see what she has to say about that?"

"Huh?"

Desperate for any sort of agreement, Leo pleaded, "Ten minutes, Christopher. Hear me out for ten minutes. That's all. If, after everything I have to tell you, you still think that you can do all of this on your own and that you don't need anyone's help, I'll let you go without another word, provided you at least let your mother know that you're all right. But you have to listen to me, really listen to me, and you have to give me a fair chance to explain. I'll answer all of your questions, but you have to give me those ten minutes."

Almost for the sake of starting another circle around the argument, Christopher tested his father. "Five. I'll give you five."

Leo sighed heavily, knowing that he wasn't going to win any arguments with this or any other version of his son. An almost amused smile of relief filled the darkness, the only thing standing between him and the things that he'd been trying futilely to avoid feeling in the last few hours. His mind and heart worked furiously, trying to come up with any way that he could say what he needed to say that would give his son any impression whatsoever of what he was thinking at the moment, of what his family was going through, but to be able to say it without scaring Christopher any more than he already was. Now that they were back in the past and Christopher was at least on a level of safe, Leo slid down the brace of the bridge to sit, legs straight out in front of him. He leaned his head against the metal, hoping that the cold steel would cool off his temper as he was about to relive some of the most painful days of his life. He looked up at Christopher and waited for his son to follow suit. It took a moment, but it seemed to finally catch on with the boy that he needed to settle in for a while or he wasn't going to be getting any answers at all.

He wished he knew how to talk to his boy. He was tired of arguing with him. The fact was, until the last few months before Chris had died, they had done nothing but argue. They didn't know how to talk. They knew how to fight each other every single step of the way, whatever way it was that they were going. Fighting was certainly easier, but nothing was going to get accomplished if they didn't figure out a way to work together — fast.

It would have been nice if he'd had an entire lifetime of raising Christopher to know how to do this, but his boy was right: he wasn't a boy and hadn't had a father in many years. To suddenly have someone in his life telling him how to run an operation or in what order to do it had to be frustrating for Christopher. He knew that. What Christopher wasn't getting was that, lifetime or not, Leo was his father and, as a father, his first duty was to help his son. Leo hadn't had a lifetime of fathering lessons from his father as he should have, but that was the only lesson that Leo could clearly remember from Chris Wyatt. His father had been the kind of guy who taught by example, and the best example he ever left for his son to follow was that there was nothing in the world so important that a man's son didn't come first and foremost in any and all things.

Since becoming a father, Leo had wondered many times if the way he was doing things was the way that his father would have handled things. Granted, his father hadn't had to deal with the extra complication of raising a magical child, but when it came to all things fatherly, Dr. Wyatt had been the best father on the block. Leo knew he could only hope to be half the father that his dad was. Knowing that he'd failed in that mission the first time around with Chris, Leo had promised himself that he was going to work at it that much harder to be the kind of father that his boys needed and deserved. He just wished that his own father was there to tell him how to do it.

Everything always went back to and started with his dad. What other way could it be?

Leo stared off into the sky, not knowing that he was holding on to the same cloud and hidden star as the boy sitting next to him, who was once again starting to show his impatience. Focusing on that cloud, Leo finally let himself talk, knowing now how to tell the story of the worst betrayal of his entire existence. "What do you know about me, Christopher?"

"Is this a trick question?"

"No, I'm completely serious. What do you know about me?"

Christopher rolled his eyes. He knew that Leo probably had a point in there somewhere, but it was still irritating to be playing this little game at the moment. Clearly annoyed, Christopher answered shortly, "I know you were Mom's Whitelighter and that you became an Elder after Wyatt was born. I know you came back home after you found out that another Elder tried to kill Wyatt. I know you don't trust the Elders with anything anymore. I know you weren't too upset about leaving Up There to be with us and be a dad." Christopher's words slowed down, taking on a much more nostalgic tone as he went on, describing his father the way that he would have described him to a complete stranger. "The only thing I clearly remember you ever telling me was that you were never happier in your entire life than when you were playing catch with me and Wyatt in the back yard. You said that, as far as you were concerned, the best thing you were going to do with your life was be a _dad_, not a _father_. None of us ever doubted that your family came first."

Pleased that, despite the rocky, vague conversations that they'd been having in the last few hours, Christopher could actually talk about him in a good light, Leo prodded, "Anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know about me before that? What do you know about me before your mom and you and your brother?"

The boy shrugged and stuttered for a moment, fishing around in his memory for any other tidbits that he could find. He randomly blurted, "Uh, you, uh — You were studying to be a doctor when Pearl Harbor happened. You joined up the next day with your two best friends. You died at Guadalcanal and became a Whitelighter. I don't know. I have no idea what you're looking for here. Why are you asking me this?"

Simply, almost detachedly, Leo began to explain, "I am an old man, Christopher. I know I don't look it, but I am. If I hadn't died, I would probably be a grandfather, if not a great-grandfather right now. Your mother and I, we try to forget it. _I_ try to forget it, but there are days that remind me that I really am a lot older than I should be. We don't talk about it, but it's there. I read the obituaries of friends who I knew sixty years ago. The woman I was married to, my wife Lillian, she died last year. My kid brother, Vernon, he died not too long ago, too. They were both eighty-four. Friends, cousins, people who were my life are all dying now, but here I am, still living and having the life that I never thought I was going to have after the war. Even if I had lived a full life, if I hadn't died, I would be dying now. Any life I would have had should be ending now, not just starting like it has since I found your mom. I'm not young anymore, but there are things that I remember clear as day, as if they had happened just yesterday. I do."

Leo shifted his weight a little, settling into the memory as he spoke, as if he could actually see it all being played out in front of him. "When I was a kid, I knew two things in my life were absolutely certain — that I wanted to be a centerfielder for the Yankees and that everything would be okay as long as I could have a good catch with my father. I loved my dad. You were named after him, by the way. I don't know if you knew that. He was a great man, my father. I thought he was the smartest guy in the world. I could talk to him about anything, no matter how bad it was. The only condition he put on the conversations was that it had to be done at the baseball field down the street, rain or shine. We, uh, we had been lucky that he was such a prominent doctor. When the Depression hit, it didn't take us as hard as some people. So my father, he, uh . . . Dad spent a lot of those years helping the people who couldn't afford help otherwise. I like to think that you got your drive to help people from him. Your grandfather was an incredibly generous man, and I was very proud to be his son.

It was during one of our catches — it wasn't too long after my twelfth birthday — that a man appeared on the third base line, looking for help. He looked horribly sick. He could hardly breathe, but he managed to tell my dad that some crazy person had actually shot him with a bow and arrow. We didn't ask any more questions. We just carried him home and took care of him in the kitchen. I'll never forget that day. I was so scared. I thought the guy was going to die right there in front of us. But my dad, he took my hands in his. He kissed the palms of each of them and said, '_Do you know why I love these hands? They're special. Some day, you'll forget all about baseball and do something really remarkable with these hands. That's why we have these catches everyday — so that I can see these hands do something that no one else is going to get to see. But today, I need you to do something else with them for me. You have special hands, Leo. They're going to get him through this. You'll see. Just use your hands. That will be enough.'_ I didn't need anything else. I was still so scared, but I held the man the way my father told me to while he cut the arrow from the man's shoulder. A few days later, the stranger said he was well enough to return home, but he called me into the room we'd put him in first. He handed me my baseball. I'd dropped it when we were carrying him home. I thought it was gone, but he found it and cleaned it up for me so that it looked almost brand new. When he gave it to me, he told me, '_Your father is right. Some day, you will do amazing things for people, but you aren't ready to do that right now. Don't give up on your baseball just yet, Leo. Enjoy it while you're still young. Then some day, when you least expect it, you'll know that it's time to put those hands to a higher calling.'_ I had no idea what that meant, but the way he smiled at me, I knew he was right. He left that day after thanking my father for all that he'd done and wished us blessed lives."

Christopher stared out into the sky, trying really hard to hide the hurt on his face. He was completely torn. Here he was, sitting on the bridge with his dad, getting to have a talk just like the one Leo was talking about, the kind of talk he had missed so very much in his life. It was right here, the one thing he always wished for whenever he wished on stars. He was sitting and talking with his dad for the first time since he was a child. But at the same time, there were so many more important things that he needed to be doing. As much as he really was enjoying hearing a story about his grandfather, he couldn't do this. He knew he couldn't get attached. He wasn't going to make up for a lifetime of being fatherless in one night. So instead, he tried to keep the hurt out of his voice as he tried to steer things back in the direction he felt they needed to be going. Overcompensating, he snapped, "Really, Leo, that's a sweet story, but what does that have to do with anything that's going on right now?"

Ignoring the question, Leo went on telling the story that he hadn't been able to tell anyone else in the family yet. "I hadn't thought about the man much after that. There had been a lot of sick or injured people in our house over the years. My mother took in a lot of boarders and people during that time, too, so there were always people coming and going. Their faces all seemed to mesh together by the time I left home. It wasn't until I was in college that I . . . I hadn't picked up that particular baseball in years. But somehow, it was right there, on top of a pile of old clothes in a trunk when I went into it. I don't even know why I went into that trunk, but something told me to. And there it was . . . I called my dad and we met at the baseball field. I brought that ball with me. We tossed the ball around for hours, talking about everything. It was the last catch I ever had with my dad. I started medical school not long after that, married Lillian, and then the war . . . But that day, finding that baseball . . . I thought about him and what they had both said to me. I just knew that they were right — not that I would do great things, but that I could do things with my hands."

Leo took a breath and pulled his eyes away from his cloud-covered star, looking down at his hands. A crooked, nostalgic grin appeared in the glow as his hands tingled. He twittered his fingers, watching the motion and the way the power surged around them, waiting to be used to heal something, anything. Seeing that Christopher was in no way making a move to change the subject, Leo's hand reached over and healed his boy's wounded arm. They both watched his hand as it worked its magic. Softly, Leo said, "I had no idea this was what he'd meant all those years before."

Christopher looked curiously between his father and his arm. "What do you mean?"

Absently, Leo nodded toward Christopher's arm. "You might want to rotate that a few times while we're sitting here. It'll stiffen up on you if you don't."

"Leo, I — "

The angel took a turn to roll his eyes and grumbled, "I know, I know — you don't need a father. You've made that perfectly clear. But as a doctor, I'm telling you to rotate that thing. Take it from experience. That'll hurt like hell tomorrow if you don't use it tonight." He waited a moment for Christopher to come up with some sort of sarcastic remark or to fight him again for control of the conversation, but when the boy just sat there, rubbing his arm and staring at him, waiting patiently for his father to continue, Leo allowed himself to go back into the story he didn't know how to tell. Softly he marveled, "_As a doctor_ . . . Man. I don't think I've said those words in sixty years. Sometimes I forget that I was a doctor at all . . . It was hard at first, being dead. There were a lot of things that Gideon could teach me about being a Whitelighter and what that meant. He could tell me anything about any of my charges and how to handle those situations. What he couldn't tell me was how to deal with the fact that the life that I had built for twenty-odd years didn't exist anymore. I wasn't a doctor anymore. I wasn't a husband or a soldier or any of those things that I had defined myself by for so long. I wasn't a son anymore. I wasn't anything anymore. It . . . It wasn't until I talked to Cecil — he was another Elder — that he suggested that I actually go ahead and say '_Goodbye_' to my life. So I visited my wife and my parents and my brother. I told them to move on with their lives and that they didn't need to worry about me. After that, I left all of it behind. I left being a doctor behind. I left being anything but a Whitelighter behind. There were a few minor periods when I'd let myself be human for a few weeks or something, but after that . . . It wasn't until I met your mother that I even attempted to have a normal semblance of a life. I'm sure you know that never came easy for either of us . . . I know now. They were right."

"Who was right about what?"

"The Elders, they were right. I wasn't meant to have the life I've had since your mom. I love her, Christopher. Whatever we've gone through, I still and always will love her more than I ever thought I could love another person. And then your brother came along and now you . . . I didn't know I was capable of so much love. I didn't. You brought something to my life that I didn't know I could ever have again. As much as I love my family, though, as overwhelming a feeling it is, it wasn't meant to be. You and your brother, you weren't part of the grand design."

"Gee, thanks," Christopher dripped sarcastically as he (as per doctor's orders) swung his arm around in progressively bigger circles. "I feel that overwhelming love overwhelming me right now."

"You know I don't mean it like that. You will never be anything short of a miracle to me. There are plenty of people, though, on both sides, who don't see you or your brother that way. To be the children of both a Charmed One and a Whitelighter was something that no one . . . People were afraid. They were afraid of Wyatt, of what he'll some day become."

Christopher glanced down at the blood on his hands and on his shirt with a dark glare. Angrily, he retorted, "I can't imagine why."

"Christopher — "

"No, Leo, really," Christopher burst. "I mean, you've seen what he's going to be when we're older. You've seen the things that he's capable of doing against his own family, nevermind an Innocent. I'm guessing he probably has become exactly what the Elders thought he would."

Before he could stop himself, Leo blurted, "Well, of course he did. They're the ones who did it to him."

The boy looked at his father like he'd fallen and hit his head on something really hard and brick-like. "Huh?"

Leo stared hard into the sky, willing the anger and fear in him to snake back down in the pit of his stomach just a while longer. He wasn't going to get through the conversation if he didn't. So he took a few deep breaths and let the chill of the wind cool him off, letting business replace nostalgia. "Christopher, what do you know about Gideon?"

"I know that he was an Elder. I know he ran the magic school before I was born. I know that you guys found out somehow that he was trying to turn Wyatt evil. No one would tell me anything else about him. People don't really say his name in our house, not even Grandpa."

The angel didn't hold any of his hatred back as he spat, "Well, we have good reason . . . "

Not quite sure how to react to such an uncharacteristically violent reaction from his father, Christopher went for the joke and gave his father a crooked smile, nodding toward the rusty stain that was still slowly darkening around his bicep. "Leo, quit stalling and get to the point, would you? If I'd held out any longer, I'd be bleeding to death here."

Immediately Leo's eyes flew open, angry and dangerous. "Don't you say that. Don't you dare say that!"

Defensively, Christopher chuckled, "Hey, Leo, I'm kidding."

"It's not funny! If you had even the slightest idea of what this family has . . . " Seeing Christopher's expression change from slightly amused to gearing back up for a fight, Leo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How was he supposed to get through to his boy without adding all of the complication of things that he didn't have that much time to explain? More than a little perturbed with the direction that the entire evening had been taking, Leo grumbled, "This isn't getting us anywhere. None of this is going anywhere at all. We — " Suddenly, Leo seemed to hear his words as he was saying them and realized that Christopher wasn't the only one holding up the operation. He calmed down enough to get back on track and asked, "Tell me: you talked about getting the girls' Whitelighter out of the way. What do you know about him?"

Christopher rolled his eyes in irritation. He was getting really tired of this game of "_Tell Me What You Know_". He was actually starting to get a little suspicious. If this man with him was really Leo, he shouldn't need to be asking these questions. He should already know the answers. He really hoped that this was going somewhere, anywhere, and going there fast. Grudgingly, he played the next round with a bite in his words, just to make sure his father knew that his patience was running low. "His name was Chris Perry. He became their Whitelighter after you became an Elder. He only stuck around for a little less than two years, and then he left. You hated him and tried several times to have him sent away, including calling several councils of the other Elders to have his soul recycled and sent back to Earth. Once he took off, no one has heard from him since. I've asked around about him, to see if he could tell me anything about what was going on around this time, but I can't go to the Elders, and the other Whitelighters I've been able to find have no idea where he is or what he's doing. I know that the sisters liked him. They didn't really talk about him much, but when they did, they seemed to think he did a pretty good job. They didn't like the guy who came after him, though. Are we done playing '_Twenty Questions_' now?"

"You know his name?"

"Well, yeah. He was their Whitelighter."

"And it has never occurred to you that you have the same name as him?"

Condescendingly, Christopher chuckled at his father. "'_Chris_' is kind of a popular name. Besides, like you said, I knew it was Grandpa Wyatt's name. What else was I supposed to read into it?"

"Nothing, I guess," said Leo.

Starting to get impatient again, Christopher tried to force this little game along. "Leo — "

"Look, I — The sisters' Whitelighter, Chris, he was a good guy. I didn't think so at first, I admit. I blamed him for things that . . . Well, he did them, but he did them for the right reasons. At least, he thought they were the right reasons. He thought he was taking care of the family by doing them. He just didn't realize that there were going to be consequences to his actions. I don't know if he would have done them if he had known what it was going to do."

"'_Things_'? '_Consequences_'? Can you be any more vague?"

"Fine," Leo huffed. Yeah, his kid was definitely impatient and pushy. _Wonder which side of the family he gets that from . . . One track mind . . ._ "Chris is the reason that your mother and I split up. He's the reason that I became an Elder. When he first showed up, he manipulated things so that I would be Up There while he would be down here with the sisters during a crisis. He did it in a way to make me look like the good guy, so it's what led to me becoming an Elder. With me out of the way, he was rewarded for all he'd done to help by becoming their Whitelighter. He hoodwinked us all. It took us almost a year to find out just who he was, and even then . . . I know now that he always had a good reason to do the things he did, but still, half the time, he caused more trouble than he solved. He's also the reason that we knew that something was trying to turn your brother. He's the reason that Paige is alive, too. She was supposed to die the day that he showed up. In _his_ timeline, she had."

"'_In his timeline_'? You make it sound like he — "

"— Was doing the exact same thing you're doing right now," Leo finished, feeling for the first time like he was the one who knew more than Christopher and could really start to take control of the situation. "Sounds like he might have had the exact same thoughts you've been having? That's because he's you, Christopher. You've been back from the future before."

"I think I would remember if I had been here before," Christopher countered, even though he clearly looked shaken. This was starting to sound a little crazy, even for him. "I haven't."

"I'm starting to think that he wasn't exactly you, but another version of you, sure. And yes, he was here. He was here right up until the day you were born. If I hadn't been such a damned trusting fool, he might still be here."

Christopher shrugged. "Well, you said he'd manipulated all of you. He wouldn't have been able to do that if you trusted him. It's not your fault that he got the best of all of you. I'm sure — "

"Not you, Chris — him," Leo said, shaking his head violently. He started rambling, not really even paying attention to what he was saying, he was so angry. "He's always been there. He's been watching me. When I became a Whitelighter, they let me look back at my past lives, mostly for perspective. He was there, even then. I never saw him, but he was there, for centuries. In the last one, he came directly to me. He was there, talking to me. He told me he'd be there. He told me he was going to show me. He said I'd do great things. Then, when it finally happened, he was there, every step of the way, showing me how to do all of those things he told me I was meant to do. He's been there. When I needed somewhere safe to go, he was always the one. I didn't have nearly the same kind of relationship with the others. It wasn't even remotely close. Of anyone in the entire world, he was the only person I've ever trusted like that who wasn't my father or your mother. But he was . . . I trusted him with my family. I trusted him with you!"

"'_He_' who, Leo?"

"You really haven't heard a word I've said, have you," Leo snapped, turning his angry, overbright eyes on his son. "Gideon, Christopher. If it weren't for Gideon, you — Chris would still be here. The future would be safe ,and you wouldn't have had to come back here again. Everything you did the first time would have been a success. You would have saved your brother and the future. The day you were born, you would have been able to go back to that future. All of the work you did, it would have made all of the difference."

Christopher interrupted his father, still far too impatient to figure out how to deal with his own situation instead of this one that had been created before he'd arrived. "I don't understand what this actually has to do with me. You heard Grams. Dad, I'm _not_ him. I didn't do any of those things."

"I haven't made it to the point yet, Christopher. Give me a minute."

Impatiently, Christopher snapped, "I gave you five. I don't have another minute, Leo. I have to — "

"You will give me a minute, Christopher," Leo ordered.

"Look, I get that you guys had a bad day the day I was born. I kinda figured that out years ago. I've heard the story of how Wyatt was born so many times I could scream, but I've never been able to get anyone in the family to tell me about the day I was born. Everyone just kind of turns green and walks away without telling me anything. That's fine. I get it that no one wants me to know about that day for whatever reason. But that doesn't have anything to do with why I'm here, which is to save Wyatt from turning evil, nothing more. So I don't see the point in rehashing all of this stuff if it doesn't matter."

Leo exhaled hotly, as if he had been holding his breath for the last ten days. Then again, it felt as if he had. He hadn't felt that way in many, many years. But then, he was a father now. He had made the choice to be nearly human again, and that meant having all of those human emotions and complications to go with it. He just didn't remember love hurting this much. It actually hurt to draw the breath to tell his child that, in some ways, he may very well be part of the reason that he had this mission of his in the first place. The thought of it alone made his blood boil. Snapping without meaning to, he said, "Actually, Christopher, it might have _every_thing to do with why your brother grew up to be the person he is. The day you were born, we almost lost Phoebe, your mom, and your brother. In the end, the only one we lost . . . Christopher, the things that happened that no one wants to tell you about have everything to do with why Wyatt is the way he is. The day you were born, Wyatt saw you murdered right in front of him. Whether you knew about it or not, the day you were born and who you are — or were — has everything to do with why you're here now."

Christopher had no problem giving his father the same look as before, the one that wondered if he'd fallen and hit his head on something incredibly hard. "That's not possible."

"The day you were born, you were guarding your brother when Gideon attacked the two of you up in the attic. Gideon stabbed you, right in front of Wyatt. He waited until I was able to get to the two of you before he orbed away, making us both watch while he took your brother from us. You died, Chris. That wound was fatal because of the magic that cursed the blade, so the only one who could stop it was Gideon. You died in my arms, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. God, it was just nine days ago for me. Do you get that? Nine days ago, I held you while you died. I am _not_ going to go through that again. Damn it, Christopher. I will not watch you die again. I can't, and I won't let you put Paige through that again, either. I love your mother's sister like she was my own sister. This is damned near killing her. I won't put a single one of us through that again. So you are going to listen to me, and you're going to pay attention instead of thinking that you know everything that you're doing because it seems to me that you don't have any more idea of what's going on or what to do than the other you did."

Definitely spooked, Christopher pulled away from his father again slightly. This had stopped being funny for him a long time ago, but it felt like he was just falling further and further down the proverbial rabbit hole and he wasn't getting anywhere near the bottom. This was crazy. All of it, it was crazy. Christopher shook his head at the angel next to him, angry and scared at the same time. "No. It didn't happen. It didn't. Wyatt — "

Leo reached over and snatched at the bright red stain on Christopher's white dress shirt. Christopher tried to pull away, but Leo held onto that patch of red as hard as he could, bunching up a piece of it so that all that could be seen through his fingers was red. It was still wet enough that it stained his hand as it seeped away from the fabric. Darkly, he told his suddenly frightened boy, "Right here, Chris. This red? This blood? Nine days ago, right here in this exact same spot on your body, there was even more blood, but that time, it wasn't from anyone else. It was yours. It was yours and it was awful. There was no stopping it. The only thing that stopped the blood from spreading was when you finally died and disappeared."

"No." Christopher shook his head, knowing for sure now that his father was somehow possessed or insane or in some way damaged. That was the only possible explanation because his father was gibbering absolute nonsense. "That's not . . . It's not possible."

"Really? Why not?"

"Because someone would have told me," argued Christopher forcefully, almost like he was a child trying to blame a younger sibling for something he knew he should be getting in trouble for. "They would."

Thinking back to everything he'd heard when they were up in the attic, Leo countered with just as much energy, "It sounds to me like someone already did."

Christopher's voice was both angry and surprised as the realization that his father was right dawned on him. "That's why Grams and Grandpa didn't want us to go? They thought I was going to die if I came back here."

"Yeah."

"Wow," Christopher breathed, much more gently than his accusations had been. Surprisingly not angry, but quite evenly, Christopher stared up into the sky at his hidden star without meeting his father's waiting gaze. Carefully he asked, "Still, how do I know that you're telling the truth? How do I know that this isn't something Wyatt conjured to distract me? It's entirely possible, you know. This story of yours is pretty crazy. I can't believe that Grandpa would keep a secret like this from me, even if he knew it could hurt me. He wouldn't."

Equitably, Leo asked, "What can I say to let you know that this is the truth? I'd tell you to ask me something that only you and I would know, but the way that time and the future and things keep changing, I don't know that it would do you any good."

"When Wyatt was born, he went without a name for over a week," Christopher started thoughtfully after a moment to consider his question. It couldn't hurt to try, right? "What did Phoebe want to call him?"

Leo rolled his eyes at the memory of the week they had struggled to come up with a name for the first of the new Halliwell generation. It had been a horrible week for all of them, least of all Wyatt, who spent his days and nights being called all sorts of names that in no way made any sense. Phoebe's suggestions had been the worst. "Potter," Leo groaned. "She was in love with those Harry Potter books and none of us could find a '_P_' name that we liked. Do I pass?"

While Leo waited, Christopher took a moment, not really caring if his father was okay with it or not. He needed a second to digest all of this, and not just what had happened to him in his last three days. Leo was telling the truth. His father was telling him the truth, that he had died in pain in his father's arms. He was dead. All this time that they had been planning, all this time that he'd spent preparing himself to deal with seeing his dead mother, dead aunts, and dead father again, not once in all of that had it ever occurred to him that he would need to consider that it might be hard for them to see him. Why should it have? There was no reason why they should have even known him. He should have been a stranger. Instead, they all knew exactly who he was and even why he was coming back to the past. It just didn't make any sense. How did he not know about any of this at all? Still a little disoriented, he asked, "How — why didn't anyone ever tell me? Why didn't I know that I had come back from the future before?"

"You asked us not to tell you — in a letter. We only just found it today. You left it in The Book of Shadows for us to find after you'd gone. You — He — the other future Chris, he was supposed to go back to the future the day you were born. Instead . . . How were we supposed to tell you? Besides, you said that you didn't want it hanging over your head. If the future turned out okay, as it should have since we thought we'd fixed everything, it never would have been necessary for you to even know that you had come back in time. You wouldn't need to know that you had done it because your brother was the ruler of all evil. You didn't want us to tell you so that you wouldn't see Wyatt any differently. You didn't want Wyatt to know about it either. You were trying to protect him. When you-he wrote that letter, he was so happy. We thought the future was safe. We had no idea about Gideon or anything else. I obviously haven't been there to the future yet, but we probably decided not to tell you because that's what you asked. Maybe we didn't say anything a little out of fear, too, that things weren't going to turn out okay. You . . . He worked so hard to save the future. It hurts to know that it was all for nothing."

"Can I see the letter? Would that be okay?"

The father didn't do a very good job trying to conceal his excitement at the son's seeming release of his fear. Too hopefully, Leo asked, "You trust me? You'll come home with me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice. Would I like it if you were to trust me? Certainly, but I'm not expecting you to, not right away. I can't imagine the things that you've been through in your life, just as you can't know all of the things that have happened in mine. If it's hard for you to trust me, especially since I haven't been in your life now for so long, I understand that. I really do. I do hope that you'll be able to trust me anyway. Whatever happens in the future, I'm your father, Christopher. There is nothing in this world or any other that I wouldn't do for you. I love you, Son. Nothing could ever change that. Nothing. That's part of being a parent — unconditional love. It doesn't work that way for kids. I get that. I have to earn your love and your trust. I hope that the last few hours are at least a start. I came to the future _for you_, to make sure that you were okay. I wanted to check on your brother, too, but I needed most especially to know that you were okay. I hope that someday you will see that."

"I do, Dad. I do. At least, I think I do."

"That's all I ask." Leo grinned back at Christopher, finally feeling at least a little at peace with who this boy was and that they could maybe find a way to work together so that no one in the family would have to come back to the past like this, ever again. Holding his hand up and catching a few drops of the rain that he had been trying to ignore, Leo indicated the rain and asked, "Can we go home then?"

The panic that had diminished in Christopher's eyes came back, bright and far too obvious. Not knowing how to react, he stammered, "Home? I-I hadn't thought . . . We were going to stay in a hotel or something until we figured things out and got adjusted to being back here and . . . well, you know . . . being around all of you again."

"A hotel? How were you going to pay for that?"

"We saved up a lot of cash."

Leo eyed his son suspiciously. Christopher was being far too evasive about the source of his wealth for it to have come from completely legal, up and up means. "You're telling me that money is not going to change in twenty-five years, not at all?"

Sheepishly, Christopher shrugged at his father. "Not exactly."

"Then _what_ exactly?"

"I sort of o-orbed into the, uh, old Federal Reserve, where they keep the old bills that they haven't destroyed yet. So all of the money that was in circulation now is still being held in my time, waiting to be destroyed."

"So you stole it," Leo assumed, sternly crossing his arms over his chest.

Christopher looked at his father like he was off his nut by about a mile and a half. Steal the money? Please. Just because his father wasn't around didn't mean that he hadn't been raised by good, honest people. What kind of family did his father think he had married into, anyway? Christopher waved the man off, saying, "Nah. We left the equivalent of it in the reserve so that it's there if we don't make it back. They didn't lose any money. It was an equal exchange, I swear, calculated for inflation and all."

Pleased with his son's honesty, Leo asked, "How much did you bring back with you?"

"More than you make in a year," Christopher smirked, until he realized that he had come through the portal empty-handed. "At least, I was going to. I think I left the backpack in the attic in the future."

"Stay with us," Leo offered after rolling his eyes at the boy's comment. "It'll be a lot more comfortable than a hotel, anyway. I don't know which one is your room, but we can probably find some sort of arrangement for you."

Even though he knew it sounded a little ridiculous for him to be the one saying it, Christopher argued, "I don't want to put you out. You have a new baby in the house."

"I want you there. Please? As soon as they know that you're you, they'll all want you there, too. I swear, we want you there. You might have to give the rest of them a few minutes, but when they finally get things settled in their minds, they'll all be thrilled to have you."

Still leery, Christopher questioned his father's assessment of the situation. "Well, shouldn't they be anyway? Shouldn't you be? The thing I don't get is, if all of this happened and you're all so worried because this other Me died, why wouldn't they be happy to see me? You definitely didn't look happy to see me when we were back in the attic after we found out you were there. You don't look any happier to see me now that you've had time to get used to it. I mean, you do _now_, but this whole time we've been talking, it's like you've been trying to make sure that I'm not evil or something. I'm not a ghost, Dad. I'm me."

"_I_ know you are, Christopher, but that's because I've had time with you."

"Well, yeah. You told me to stay away from all of them, but especially Paige. They haven't had the time or the chance to talk to me. Why is that, by the way? Why specifically Paige? Wouldn't she be happy to see me?"

"Paige is going to be different than your mom or Phoebe. She was there with you when you died. I don't know exactly what happened between the time that she left the hospital to come be with you and when I got there, but something pretty drastic happened. I know that much. I know that when I was finally able to get back to you, she had been forced out of the room, and there was a SWAT team in there with you. Darryl came out and told us that . . . All I know is that she was with you and something happened that she hasn't been able to put into words yet. I think that, of all of us, she's going to have the hardest time seeing you. That's all."

"A SWAT team," Christopher asked. "They sent an entire SWAT team after me?"

"Yeah, well, I orbed you out of jail for stealing a car, but those charges were dropped. Then you — well, an evil double of you — also assaulted a police officer and had an outstanding warrant out for your arrest. Since the world was all topsy-turvy, it didn't . . . There's a detective who's been investigating all of us and Darryl. This detective who is out to get the family, she can't be accused of taking anything lightly. I'll put it that way. To her, an assault team must not have seemed all that unreasonable to use to attack a mortally wounded twenty-three year old kid, I guess."

The final threads of understanding tightened around Christopher's throat as he asked, "Paige was with me?"

"She was supposed to be, but when I got there, she was out of the room. I don't know why she was in the hallway or how she got there, but she won't be telling any of us any time soon, I don't think. She's pretty messed up. A stranger would never know the difference because she just seems incredibly happy that you've been born and that everyone is safe, but she keeps getting happier and happier and won't talk about anything that happened. She wouldn't see Darryl this afternoon at all."

"Darryl? Who's Darryl? You keep talking about him like I should know him, but I have no idea who you're talking about."

Bitterly, Leo said, "Darryl Morris is an old family friend. His partner was Andy Trudeau, your aunt Prue's boyfriend who was killed by a demon not quite a year after the girls found out that they were witches. After Andy died, Darryl stuck around and tried to protect the sisters from the police whenever they needed help keeping their secret. Something happened not too long ago, though, that spooked Darryl enough into thinking that it's too risky for him to be helping us out any more. He was a good friend to the family and we all loved him like he was one of our own, but it was too much. After he led that SWAT team, that was pretty much it for Paige and me. He called and asked to see us, as a family, but Paige wouldn't go. I don't blame her. I didn't want to, either. It was while Piper and Phoebe went to meet him that I came after you this evening. I will always be grateful to Darryl for some of the things that he has protected the girls from over the years, but now, I don't really care if I ever see him again."

"That would explain why I don't know him, then," Christopher mused. "I've never even heard of the guy."

"Well, a lot of things didn't go the way they were supposed to that day," said Leo sadly. He turned his face away from Christopher, willing himself not to shed the tears that he knew were boiling around the rims of his eyes again. Softly, he sighed to himself. "So many things . . . "

"I guess not."

Collecting his thoughts, Leo explained, "That's why I didn't think it would be very easy for your mother or aunts to see you today. Just before you-he and I walked through a portal that we thought we were taking to get him home to the future, I saw that look on your mother's face. I knew that look. It was the same look that my mother had worn on her face when she and Dad took me to the train station for the last time. They were putting me on a train that would take me to a ship that would take me to the other side of the world. She knew, somehow, that it was the last time she was going to be seeing me like that. She knew I wasn't coming home. She knew she was giving up a child. That's what your mother was essentially doing that day. She knew that she was telling you for the last time for at least twenty-three years that she loved you. She was saying '_Goodbye_' for the last time for many, many years to come. It was breaking her heart. Then when everything else happened . . . So many things went wrong that day that we can't take back now. It broke your mother's heart to see you off. She knows that he is dead and that's killing her. To see you now, without any explanation, I was afraid it would destroy her. For us to go to her, together, and explain things the best that we can, that's the only way I could foresee doing this. Once we've talked to her, she'll be fine. She'll be more than thrilled to see you. It'll break her heart to have you leave again, but for now, she will be happy to have you."

"I'm sorry I caused so much trouble, Dad. I never would have intentionally hurt any of you. You have to know that."

"We do, and you didn't cause trouble, Christopher. Circumstances just . . . Things were out of all of our hands for a while. This family is starting to take our lives back, though, piece by piece. One day, we'll be whole again. It might take a while, but we'll make it. We always do."

Christopher allowed a little smirk to color the corner of his mouth, indicating a little inside, future-type secret. "Yeah, we do."

They both sighed, hopefully, and then Leo extended his offer one more time. "Come home with me?"

Still smirking, Christopher laughed. "Are you sure you want two of me in one house? Mom always told me I was a real handful."

"Nothing would make me happier than to bring you home with me right now, Christopher. Nothing."

Still not entirely convinced, Christopher cocked a sarcastic eyebrow and asked, "Will I have to change diapers?"

Thinking of the pregnant girl that Christopher had been doting so preciously on, Leo winked at his son and said slyly, "It wouldn't hurt for you to have the practice, now, would it?"

"I guess not."

Immediately, Leo regretted dragging Christopher's mind back to the place it probably hadn't left yet anyway. "Christopher, I . . . "

"She really isn't going to meet us here, is she?" Sadly, Christopher looked off into the sky one last time, picking out where he knew his star to be and wishing like hell on it that things would turn out okay. Part of him also knew that the only way things were going to turn out okay was for him to get off his ass and get to work. He sighed, resigned. "I'm really doing this without her."

Leo clapped his boy's shoulder reassuringly. "We're going to get her back for you, her and your brother both. I promise. And can we just stop this nonsense now? I don't care if she's your sister, your cousin, or the next door neighbor's red-headed step-child's third cousin twice removed. I won't tell anyone at home about her, but you have to give me a name so that I don't have to call her '_Her'_ anymore. Please?"

"Call her '_Bum_'. That's always worked for Grandpa. None of us could walk through the door without him yelling, '_Hey, you bum_'. It was his thing."

"Christopher," Leo groaned.

"Fut- — "

"-ture consequences," the two of the groaned together, not quite but nearly breaking into grins. It was still an important reason, but it was starting to hurt a lot less to say or hear it.

"Lucy," the boy admitted reluctantly and quite uncomfortably. "It's Lucy Penelope Halliwell. Mom usually called her 'Lu', so did everyone else. Don't even try to call her 'Lulu' or 'Lucky'. Grandpa and I are the only ones who can get by with that one. She'll punch your lights out before you call her either one ever again."

"Got it. And you go by '_Christopher_'?"

"Most of the time. It's what Mom preferred. Wyatt calls me '_Chris_' a lot, Lucy, too. To everyone else, it's pretty much Christopher."

"Thank you."

"You can't say anything."

Together, they both said again, "Future consequences."

Leo laughed the first real laugh that he could remember having in nearly two weeks. He stood and lowered a hand to help his son up. When they were both standing, Leo gave Christopher an odd look, a curious eyebrow raised. "Lucy was my mother's name, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Christopher with a knowing smile.

Realization dawned on Leo for the umpteenth time in the last few hours, a feeling that he wasn't all that sure he was enjoying too much. It was starting to become a tad ridiculous, actually. Too many things were creeping up on him and he didn't like it. The dangers of time travel were just too confusing sometimes. Still . . . he was a father, or at least he was going to be (again). His father would have liked that. His father always said he wanted to have a little girl to spoil and call his grandda- — "I'm going to be a grandfather," Leo said softly.

Christopher just about choked on his laugh. "Caught that, did you?"

Father and son exchanged another look before orbing out to head back to the house, to the warmth, and to where Christopher could finally figure out where he needed to begin.

**II.**

Victor shook the pitcher of grape juice that he had pulled out of the refrigerator with a little more force than he'd intended, causing a few drops of the sticky liquid to spray over his fingers when he finally popped the jug's top. He put his fingers to his lips to suck the sharp taste away before absently wiping his hand on the back of his jeans. He growled, annoyed, in the back of his throat at the remnants of the stickiness as he filled the brightly colored sports bottle three quarters of the way through with the juice and then cut it the rest of the way with the cold water from the next pitcher. He washed his hands and wiped the bottle clean of any remaining sugar before handing it over to the elder of his two grandsons. It wasn't until Victor noticed that Wyatt wasn't in any way reacting to accept the bottle that he realized that the boy had been staring right at him for the last five minutes without hardly blinking.

As much as he loved Wyatt, he had to admit that he had never been so unnerved by a two-year-old before.

Impossibly bright blue eyes were fixed back at him, ageless. Victor didn't know what it was, but there was something in his grandson's eyes. Wyatt was only a baby. He couldn't understand grief or despair, but somehow, it was there. He couldn't understand the kind of resolve that pushed a man beyond those things until all that's left is ice and blackness, but somehow, it was there in Wyatt's eyes. Growing up in an atmosphere where he'd been so constantly doted on and spoiled couldn't produce that look in such young eyes, but there it was. It couldn't. It just couldn't, but it was there.

Victor stole a quick glance at Christopher (who was already falling asleep in his bouncy seat on the kitchen table) before sitting down in front of Wyatt. He turned his grandson's chair toward him and his own chair so that they would be directly facing one another. He tried again to hand Wyatt the grape juice, but the boy didn't even look at it. He just looked at his grandfather with eyes that both understood everything and comprehended nothing. The man bent over at the waist, resting his chin on the arm of Wyatt's chair. He got a few errant crumbs of what smelled like graham crackers stuck to it, but at the moment, he didn't really care. His first grandson, who he would and almost had died for, was in some kind of pain. What kind of pain a two-year-old could know was a little beyond him, but he could see it was there. If what Chris had told him had been true, it was his job as grandfather to these boys to find out what that pain was and try to make it better.

Still, such an adult, linear thinking didn't exactly make a whole lot of sense regarding a not quite two-year-old toddler. It was probably best to start out on a much more basic level. Victor took the bottle of juice in his hand, hoping that Wyatt's eyes would move toward it. With a lopsided grin, Victor asked, "Are you _sure_ you don't want some juice?"

The boy didn't even blink.

"Is it because I put the water in it?" There was, almost expectedly, no answer. "I know you think you can taste the difference, but there isn't one. It tastes exactly the same, I swear." All the boy offered his grandfather was a blank stare. "Wyatt, it's almost eight o'clock. You can't have any more sugar than that or you'll never go to sleep tonight." Still, the toddler did nothing to acknowledge the man in front of him. "You know, your mom used to try that same thing on me when she was your age. So did your aunt Prudence. They would look at me like that and pout because they thought if they looked that cute at me for long enough, I'd give in, and they'd get their way. So I'm well versed in this tactic, Buddyboy. You aren't going to get that one passed me. Sorry, Pal." Still there was a lot more of nothing but blue-eyed stares. "I'll take it away, you know. I'll put it away, and you won't get any more juice tonight." There was no reaction at all. Wyatt simply continued to stare at his grandfather (or more accurately, right at his left ear, it seemed). Victor shook his head, grinding crumbs into the chair arm. He sat back up and started to move toward the refrigerator. "Okay, Wyatt. Here it goes. It's going away now. The juice is going away. No more juice for Wyatt tonight. None. It's going away. Okay then . . . "

As Victor put the sports bottle into the refrigerator, he was pleasantly startled by his grandson's small voice behind him. "'Hat's 'at?"

The smile of happiness at finally hearing Wyatt say something withered when he saw the pout on his grandson's face puff out even more. Still, Wyatt could be pouting for any number of reasons. He could just be mad that the juice was now officially put away. He could just legitimately be asking what something was, though, too. It wasn't like this wasn't the perfect age for Wyatt to be constantly asking that question. So he offered to play along, giving his grandson a playful wiggle of his eyebrows. "What's what, Wyatt?" The boy pointed in the direction of the door that led down to the basement so Victor said helpfully, "That's the door, Pal. Door. Do-or. Door."

As soon as Victor was finished schooling his grandson, Wyatt's face took on the same alarmed expression that he'd been wearing on first sight that night. Victor barely had time to register the look before, without warning, a knife, large and pointy, sparkled blue out of the cutlery block and darted toward the door. Victor barely had enough time to leap out of the way before the blade thudded into the wood, wiggling back and forth and making a threatening sound. Victor's head whipped back and forth between blade and boy, confused. "Uh . . . "

Wyatt's pout finally turned to whimpering tears. "Bad."

Still startled, Victor exhaled sharply and muttered, "Uh, yeah." He gave the knife (the largest in the Piper's well-kept block, naturally) one last look of concern before putting his full attention on his grandson. "Bad? Wyatt, why is the door bad?"

The toddler didn't answer. He looked at his grandfather with the same eyes that had stared so deeply against the juice. Victor suddenly wondered if the boy had even seen the juice at all. He wasn't sure why, but for whatever reason, the only thing he could think to do was pick up his grandson and steer his eyes far away from the basement door in the hope that being held would be enough to make that pout go away. He glanced down at Christopher in his seat where he was now fully asleep and grinned warily. _Okay. One kid down, one to go._ He heaved Wyatt up out of his chair and positioned the boy on his hip, wrapped safely in his arm. Surprisingly, Wyatt seemed to sense some sort of safety in the arms of his grandfather, too, because he buried his tear-streaked face in the big man's shoulder.

Together the two of them paced back and forth, Victor carefully rubbing circles into Wyatt's back with his free hand. His eyes occasionally glanced back toward the knife in the door to make sure that it was still there. He'd seen Wyatt do little things with his powers before, but up until now, it had been with his toys, not knives. Piper would have said something if he had done anything dangerous. She would have. So seeing that sweet, beautiful boy in his arms wielding that knife, it just . . . It couldn't and didn't make any sense.

But then there were his grandson's eyes. Wyatt's eyes were still staring straight ahead, even though he couldn't see the knife in the door anymore. He certainly saw something, though. They were too fixed to not be seeing something. They scared Victor. There was something in them, betraying a kind of knowledge that no child his age could possibly have. Unless . . . Softly, Victor hugged his grandson closer to his chest and whispered painfully, "You saw something, didn't you? You saw something you weren't meant to see."

Wyatt didn't acknowledge the question except to point at the sleeping baby on the table before digging his chin hard into his grandfather's shoulder. He squeezed his grandfather's neck even harder, whimpering into the man's ear. "Nononononono."

"Oh, baby," Victor bleakly hushed his grandson. "It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

Victor started walking a little faster, bouncing Wyatt absently for comfort. He kept whispering softly, not really even paying attention to what it was that he was saying. All he knew was that he needed to make his beautiful grandson feel safe until the girls could straighten out the situation, and he'd get his explanation he'd been promised, even though he didn't even know what explanation he was waiting for.

"Okay, Kiddo . . . I've got you. I promise. I'm not letting you go. It's going to be okay, Wyatt. I don't know exactly what '_it_' is or why it isn't okay at the moment, but it's going to be okay. Your mom and your dad and your aunts are all going to do everything that they can to make sure that you are never less than completely safe and loved and happy. I can't imagine what it is that you saw that has you so wound up, but no one in this house is going to ever let anything happen to you. That means me, too. I'm your grandfather. That's what I do. That's what grandpas do. They're there for their grandsons. So I'm going to be here, right here with you . . . hidden away safely in the kitchen — at the Kids' Table. Why? Because I'm your grandpa."

A wry but sort of amused smile breached the man's face as he cuddled his grandson. A sarcastic groan colored his smile as he went on. ". . . and because I'm always relegated to the Kids' Table. Not that it's a bad thing to be at the Kids' Table. It's good to be out of the way, because you're here, and Christopher is here. We have our own little club here. _The Kids' Table, Out of the Way Guys_. It has a catchy ring to it, don't you think? We'll have jackets made and everything, because let's face it: we're going to be spending a lot of time here. You've had two years with the family now, you understand. Don't you? The women of this family, they have a tendency to put the men in the family out of the way. Most of the time, that's okay with me. I like the Kids' Table. While they're blowing things up and getting slimed by demons, we get the cool toys. I get grandson time, like I am right now. Because you guys, you and your brother, you're a lot more fun to hang out with than the slimy demons or scaly monsters. Who wants to blow up icky monsters anyway?"

Slowly growing concerned at hearing his own words, but not wanting to stay quiet for too long in case it would inspire his grandson to worry himself, Victor went on rambling. Moving on to advice instead of self pity, he said, "Now, Wyatt, listen — Man to Man — I know you're probably going to want to some day. Let's face it: your mother and your aunts make it look easy and almost fun. Eventually, you're going to like it like they do. I know your brother does. He told me that it makes him feel like he is doing something good for the world that other people can't do. What worries me is that you guys are a little too young right now to be seeing that kind of thing. It's around you so much, I don't know . . . Chris told me that some day, you're going to like it too much. I don't really know what that means because your brother stopped talking after that. He used that '_Future Consequences_' excuse that I heard he used on a regular basis around all of you. I think your mom knows what that's supposed to mean, though, so I guess that's okay. I wish they would have told me, too, but then, I'm a man in this family. I don't get told things until they're over."

The grandfather jiggled the slowly calming bundle in his arms, crooked his head, and puffed up with pride. There was no mistaking the '_Nah nah nyah nyah nyah_' tone to his voice as he proudly said, "Except from your brother. We didn't have a lot of time together before he left, but in the time that we had, he never once treated me like I was anything less than the girls. He called me, you know, the day before he left to go back to the future. He knew I'm not worthless. Chris thinks I'm awesome — his word, not mine, I swear. You were in the other room. You missed that part, but he did; he called me '_awesome_'. He talked to me for a while, too, when he called. I bet we were on the phone for a good half an hour. He asked me to take care of you and your mom and your aunts for him. You know what? I'll gladly do that. I'll be more than happy to take care of you, and not just because he asked me to. Granted, if you had heard his voice, you'd know that I don't really have much of a choice. He really wanted me to be here. So here I am, looking out for you and the rest of the family. That would be a lot easier to do, though, if your mom would actually tell me things I need to know once in a while. They don't tell me things, though. They never have. When your mom was just your size, your grandma and her mom did the same thing to me. I wasn't allowed to play with any of the girls in the house because I wasn't special like them. I can't blow things up just by looking at them or throw people across the room just by moving my hands. Your brother says I'm going to end up liking to orb when you kids are older, but that is one of those things that's going to have to remain to be seen, too. If I could do that by myself, I don't think I'd be doing it very often. I definitely didn't come with that cool little blue bubble thing you've got, either. I'm just me, and that was never good enough for your great-grandmother, but don't tell her I told you that. She'd say that I'm feeling sorry for myself or something. I'm not. I just . . . I never thought I was going to end up in a world like the one you guys live in, where I was the one who needed to be protected."

Victor inwardly huffed and put his hand up to Wyatt's back, squeezing his grandson tighter for the comfort of them both. Their cheeks met as the grandfather shrugged. His tone softened a little and became almost nostalgic as he went on. "I wasn't raised that way, you know. I grew up in a different time, where men were taught that women needed to be protected and taken care of. Now don't go thinking that your old grandpa is, well, _old_, because I'm not. Things have changed a lot in my lifetime. Can you believe that when I was in school, girls still couldn't wear anything but skirts or dresses to school? Yeah. It wasn't that long ago. Now girls wear things to school that make me wonder if half of them haven't been arrested for solicitation — but you don't need to know what that means. It's a big word. We'll just leave it at that. The point is, Wyatt, things were a little different when I was a boy. Strong, wonderful women like your mother and your aunts didn't seem to have a place in this world. They weren't treated with the respect that they deserved. I didn't really believe that stuff, but there were still certain expectations for a man like me. When I met your grandmother, that was one of the things that impressed me the most about her; she didn't believe that garbage either. She was an amazing woman, and she knew it. Your grandmother, Wyatt, she shined. She's still the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Man, she was beautiful. I hope that some day, you'll get to know her like you should have been able to if she hadn't died. It's not like she hasn't been brought here before like your great-grandmother. There is a certain something about Patty, though, that can't be described. You'll have to see it to know it. I've never stopped loving her, you know. No matter what you might hear as you grow up, you need to hear from me how much I loved her."

Hearing a little snuffling noise, Victor stopped walking around for a moment so that he could look down at Christopher in his bouncy seat and then at Wyatt in his arms. Whichever one of them had sniffled, they both looked oblivious to the fact that he'd heard the noise at all. Then he realized, surprised, that the noise had come from his own throat. Confession, even to a couple of babies, was hard work. He hadn't been even remotely prepared for it. It was worth it, though. He was getting time alone with his grandsons, just as Chris had promised him he would some day. Wow. It seemed like it was only last week that his girls were this small, listening to his rambling nonsense just as the boys were now. Maybe Chris's assessment of their relationship in the future wasn't so far off, after all. He liked that. He really liked that idea.

Going on, now that he felt an inner rhythm to his ramblings, Victor glanced in sadness at his boys. "I might as well get all of this out while we're alone and you're too young to be able to blackmail me with the information, right? Okay, so here goes . . . I think you guys should know, and I've never been able to say this to your mom or your aunts, but I think it might be good for you to know. I never meant for any of those things to happen. I never meant for your mother and your aunts to grow up without a father around, without me. I never wanted to be so far away. After a while, though, I didn't know how to come back home. I wanted so badly to come home. Coming home is a really scary thing, though. You can't imagine. I hope you never have to. I promise you, though, that there is nothing that you could ever do in your lifetime that will ever be so bad that you can't come home. Okay? I will never let you think otherwise. But then, you're already a lot stronger than I ever was. Coming home wasn't an option for me, no matter how much I wanted it.

"I'll tell you a little secret, though, just between us guys, huh? I think I've come home to stay this time. I don't want to be away from home anymore. It's time that I did, don't you think? I'd rather be here at the Kids' Table with you than ever be back in that lonely old apartment, ever again. You and me and your brother? We're going to stick together. We're the boys club in this family, and that means a lot of being told to hide. So we'll hide at the park and the movie theatres and the zoo and any place else you like. We'll find all kinds of things to do, because, as great as this is right now, just hanging out here in the kitchen isn't going to be all that fun if we're going to do this on a regular basis, you know?"

Nervously, Victor's eye caught the knife again, still plunging ominously in the door where it had been (for a moment, at least) forgotten. Out loud to both himself and Wyatt, he mused, "What do you think they're doing up there, huh? It can't be too exciting. I don't hear anything crashing or the girls yelling or anything. What do you think?"

Victor craned his neck back a bit to get a look at Wyatt, expecting to see those bright blue eyes to still be far too aware and staring back at him. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to find a calmly sleeping boy nestled into his shoulder, thumb in his mouth and a peaceful, dreamy look on his face. _Both down, safe, and loved. Dad's still got it. Yeah. Just like riding a bike . . . Now if only you could figure out how you're going to explain that knife in the door, you'd be the champ . . . _

Not ready to let this moment end yet, though, Victor continued to pace around with his grandson in his arms, softly talking to the boy more for himself than anything else. "Okay, fellas, what else can we talk about, huh?"

Neither boy offered even a yawn for an answer, causing Victor to shrug in grandfatherly amusement. He was on his own, but it was a great kind of aloneness, even if the subject matter of his discussion wasn't exactly _Sesame Street_ material.

"I suppose that talking about me not being around for your mom and Prue and Phoebe has made you wonder a few things about your own dad, huh? I'm sure it's been a scary year having him gone all the time. I admit, I wasn't all that thrilled with him for taking that promotion either. Speaking as a father, though, I can tell you that every single second he's been gone, he was thinking about you. I know he was, so I don't want you to be mad at him for too long, okay? I thought I had all the time in the world to say I was sorry to your aunt Prue, but I didn't. I don't want either of you to make that same mistake that she and I did. Okay? As much as I hate to admit it, your dad isn't such a bad guy. So if things don't work out with your mom and dad, don't be too hard on him. He loves you just as much as your mom does. I promise. Everything they do, it's for you guys. You have the best parents in the world. And ask your brother — you have a pretty terrific grandpa, too . . . I believe the word is '_awesome_'. Learn it, know it, love it."

A soft, slightly amazed voice came from the doorway, tugging him out of his rambling advisings and anecdotes. "You got them to sleep."

Victor grinned happily up at his daughter even though the crookedness in his voice feigned a minor offense. "Hey! I didn't forget _everything_ about being a father."

"I never thought you did," said Piper fondly. As an afterthought, she added, "That was Prue's deal."

The man shrugged his eyebrows ruefully, acknowledging the brutal honesty of his daughter's remark. "In a lot of ways, she was right."

"But not all of them," Piper said reassuringly. "Things were never perfect, but of all of us, she had the most to forgive. She forgave you. If the Powers That Be or whoever controls these things would let us summon her here, I know she'd tell you the same thing. Besides, you know Prue. She holds the marathon record on grudges. Even that wasn't insurmountable. Very few things in this world are."

Attempting to slip his question under the radar, Victor turned his attention back to Wyatt and the business of settling the sleeping boy into another position in his arms. As arms twisted and shifted, he asked, "What about what just happened upstairs? Is that insurmountable?"

Piper chuckled and rolled her eyes at her father's complete lack of subtlety. "Nice segue."

"I do my best. So are you going to tell me what all of this is about, or do I just need to hide in the corner until it all goes away like a good little boy?"

Neither father nor daughter said anything for a moment while Piper studied her father handling her sons. The boys both seemed so serene and happy under their grandfather's care, something that she hadn't seen much of from Wyatt in the last ten days. Her boys looked like they finally felt safe. Even though she was guessing that he wouldn't admit it, she was willing to bet that her father was about ready to bust at the seams with happiness at the moment. He looked so comfortable with them, not awkward as she might have expected. He had been gone for so long during their childhoods that she never really knew if he even knew how to handle a baby. She had seen it a little bit with Wyatt, but she had always been right there with him. This time, the three men of the family had been on their own. Yet somehow, no catastrophes had happened. Her father was still conscious. No demons had popped in to take their shots at Wyatt or Christopher. Everything had been quiet and calm, and the boys were asleep. Maybe what she was thinking wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Actually, Dad, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about while you were here. I haven't talked about this with the others yet, but I was wondering . . . after everything that Chris said and the way the two of you got along, I was just . . . I know you have a life and things you want to be doing with it, but I was hoping that maybe you would consider moving a little closer to home now. The boys really need their grandfather in their life. I don't want you just hiding in the wings. You aren't hiding anyway. Dad, if I ever made you feel like we wanted you to hide . . . You're my dad. I'd like you to be around. I need you to be here. I need you to do something that apparently none of the rest of the people in this house can do: I need you to keep my sons safe."

Victor swayed from side to side, his grandson draped over the cradle the man's arms made in front of him. He didn't know what else to do. He'd been waiting for so long to hear something along those lines to come from his children that he wasn't remotely prepared for it to actually happen. So instead of looking at her, he smiled down at the boy in his arms and patted his bottom in rhythm with the direction of his swaying hips. Properly distracted, he said, "Piper, you guys do just fine taking care of the boys. They're both perfectly safe. They're fine."

Piper tiptoed over to the table, and in a direct imitation of her father, distracted herself with the task of wrangling her baby out of his seat. As she groaned and hoisted Christopher to her shoulder, she said sadly, "We don't know that, Dad. We don't know that at all."

"Oh, Piper," Victor pishawed.

Interrupting, Piper jumped right in before her father could even try to be any more reassuring. "Dad, did Chris tell you _why_ he was here from the future?"

They both looked at the small child in Piper's arms as Victor said, "To save the family." He nodded his chin at the infant and winked at him. Proudly, he said, "And he did a great job, didn't he? Yeah. I think he did. He looks pretty happy with it, if you ask me."

Undeterred from her mission to get all of the hard stuff out of the way in this one night, Piper firmly asked, "Did he tell you who he was trying to save the family _from_?"

"Honey — "

Piper sucked a strong breath in between her teeth, gathering as much air as she could. She hated this part of what had been happening to her family. She hated knowing the few things that Chris had told her, but most of all she hated this part of their story. Almost angrily, Piper pushed the air out as fast as she could get the words to come together and tell the story. "Chris was here to save the family from Wyatt, Dad. In the future, Wyatt grew up to be, for lack of a better way to put it, the ruler of all Evil. Demons bowed before him. He killed demons and witches alike. He grew up to be such a monster that Chris's only choices left were to either kill his own brother or come back here to the past and try to fix whatever it was that went wrong. He didn't even know what went wrong except that some_thing_ or some_one_ had done something to Wyatt before the day that he was born. Somehow, we had been unable to protect Wyatt from whatever it was that did that to him. Chris had been left without any other options because we couldn't protect his brother."

"But that's all changed now, right," Victor asked hopefully, attempting to keep thoughts of the knife in the door out of his head. (_That was nothing, right? That was just Wyatt being jumpy, nothing more. It had been a crazy couple of days. That was all._) Everything was fine. They didn't need to worry any further. Still, it didn't hurt to ask. "There's — Chris went back to the future. He called to tell me he was leaving. He told me that he'd done what he'd come to do and that it was safe to go back. So that means that Wyatt is safe, that Chris is safe, that the future is safe. Right? I mean, he never would have gone back to the future unless he was sure that everything was fixed. So Wyatt's safe. I don't understand why that . . . "

"We were wrong," Piper seethed, still using what was left of that angry air she had collected in her lungs. "The person who was after Wyatt tricked us into thinking we'd found those responsible for turning Wyatt in the future. He tricked us. So yes, when Chris called you, we all thought that Wyatt was safe, but the man who was really after Wyatt, he manipulated us to get Chris and Leo out of the way so that he could keep Paige and Phoebe busy. He pretended to help us with sending Chris back when he was really sending them to this other plane so that we would have to help them. While Phoebe and Paige were trying to sort that out, this man, he tried to . . . "

Nervously, Victor interrupted. He could tell that he wasn't going to like what his daughter was going to tell him, but there was still a shred of hope left in him that he had to clarify. Everyone was here and safe and alive so he didn't see the point in all of the in between parts of the story when he could just skip ahead to the happy ending. "Okay, I don't know who '_He_' is, but he _tried_. He didn't succeed. The boys are right here. You and your sisters are here. Everybody's okay."

"We don't know that. We don't know anything. The sonofabitch — Gideon, his name was Gideon — he took Wyatt. Once he got all of them out of the way and I was in labor, he tried several times to kill Wyatt before he figured out that he would have to take my son away from everything before he could succeed. In a roundabout way, the things he did to manipulate the situation to his advantage . . . He got Phoebe shot, point blank in the chest. She almost died. If Leo hadn't been there in the house, we would have lost her. And Chris . . . Gideon murdered Chris, Dad. He never made it back to the future. Gideon killed him before he could go back."

"W-what?" There were only two other times in his life that Victor's voice had been as small as it was then. When Patty had died and when Prue had been taken from them, it had taken everything that he'd had to be able to push even that tiny word out of his lungs. A single syllable shouldn't be so hard to say, but it was damned near agonizing. He tried it again, though, after clearing his throat several times. "_What_?"

Before she had the chance to get too emotional about things again, Piper plowed through the remainder of their tale with as even a tone as she could manage. "He did it right in front of Wyatt, Dad. We don't know what Gideon did to him after he took him, but I'm guessing that seeing Chris basically gutted just before being kidnapped . . . We have _no idea _if Wyatt's okay."

Sleeping babies prevented him from physically comforting his daughter, but Victor hoped that the devastated look he knew was on his face would be enough to let her know he understood her grief. Sadly, he fumbled for words again. "Oh, Piper . . . I — Honey, w-why didn't you tell me? I would have come so much sooner if I had known."

"Was I supposed to tell you that on the phone? How was I supposed to tell you that we were unable to protect your grandson and got him killed? Even if I had told you, we can't do anything for him. There wasn't . . . After he died, Chris disappeared from Leo's arms. You wouldn't have been able to do anything. I thought it would be better if we got to talk about it in person. It's just . . . "

"He disappeared? How could he disappear?"

"We don't know. We think that maybe it's because this wasn't his time, like he just faded away back into his own time or something. We don't know. We have no idea where he is or what's happened to him. We're hoping he's right here in this little guy, but we don't know for sure. We have no way of knowing."

Victor immediately started looking about for his coat and shoes, ready to sprint out the door. "Well, shouldn't we be out looking? He could be anywhere, Piper. What are we doing just sitting talking when we should be out there looking for him?"

Piper's head hung low. She knew that propulsion toward the door all too well, but she also knew the stark futility of it. "Dad, it . . . It doesn't work like that."

"How do you know? You said you don't know. He could be here."

"If I thought there was even the slightest chance that he was out there somewhere, I would be the first one out there looking for him."

"I know you would, Honey, I do. I just . . . _Disappeared_?"

"Dad," Piper started, unsure of where they should be going next. She stuttered along though, knowing that if she stopped, it would give her the time to actually _hear_ what she was saying instead of just knowing that she was saying words with letters. "I wish that I could tell you more. I wasn't here. Paige and Leo are the only ones who were here to know what really happened. If I knew more, I would tell you, I would, but there is . . . "

"What about what you were saying upstairs? I heard the three of you. You said you saw Chris, just now, up in the attic. If he's dead and disappeared like you say, how did you see him?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure how that happened at all. That's why I wish Leo would come back and tell me what the hell is going on. I know that he knows at least some of what's going on. Right now, all I know is that I saw him and that Grams did, too. We'll find out everything else as soon as Leo gets back, I guess."

"And that's — " Victor started, but stopped at the realization that he was near yelling. Taking the decibel level down a notch and swaying little more to keep both Wyatt and himself calm, he started over, this time at a level a little more conducive to keeping babies asleep. The lower voice didn't hide his astonishment, though, and there was plenty of it. "And that's good enough for you? Your son who you thought was dead is off wandering around, and 'W_ait and See_' is the best plan you have? Honey, you know that as much as I love you, I've never been a fan of the line of work you girls were given, but aren't you supposed to be the most powerful witches ever? Shouldn't you be able to do _some_thing?"

Piper gave her father an ugly, '_Flattery Will Get You Nowhere_' look. Still, part of her knew that he had at least a partial point. She just wasn't used to being this helpless. She hadn't felt this way in quite a long time. Annoyed that she was even thinking he knew what he was talking about, she grumbled, "Thanks for that vote of confidence, Dad, but I don't think it's going to work that way this time."

"So what do we do now?"

She thought it over, chewing her lower lip in concentration. Finally steeled against every crazy impulse she had to chase down her husband like her father wanted, Piper took a heavy breath and shrugged. "We put these two to bed and hope that, by the time we're done, Leo will have found Chris and can talk him into coming home."

Almost disappointed with the answer, Victor asked, "That's all?"

"That's all." Smiling with effort, she tried to bring the topic back to something a little less tense until Leo could return and help them figure out what was going on. She hugged Christopher to her, tighter than she realized, and kissed him gently on the top of his head. "I've got mine. Got yours?"

"Check."

Together, they embarked on the operation of bringing two babies upstairs from a full day downstairs. There were babies to carry, their blankets, bottles, pacifiers, teddy bears (or in Wyatt's case, his new favorite for the week, the stuffed tiger Phoebe had found for him), and all of it had to be done in one load. It was too risky to make trips. Trips left openings for the boys to wake up in their room and realize that they were alone, which would lead to crying, which would wake up the remaining sleeping child, and that in turn would lead to a very long night of switching off waking children. It was best to keep them from waking at all. Baby Christopher would be awake soon enough as it was.

When they were both fully packed like the strongest of pack mules, they both cocked their eyebrows at one another, a clear sign that they were ready to make the dangerous journey up the stairs that could at any moment wake the sleeping boys. As gracefully as they possibly could, they tiptoed out of the kitchen into the main hallway and foyer. The easy part of their trek was almost accomplished until they reached the table in the middle of the way when wrenching their hips around it caused a pacifier to clatter to the ground. Of course, since they were both trying to be extremely quiet, the sound of the plastic clattering on the hardwood floor sounded like a cannon shooting off. Both Wyatt and Christopher made small noises, but settled back into position after bringing identical fists to their eyes, the universal sign of _Tired Baby On Board_.

Both father and daughter looked down at the discarded pacifier, debating whether or not to risk its retrieval, but Victor finally nodded his chin toward the stairs. "Leave it. I'll come back for it after they're asleep."

A swirl of bluish orbs sparkled in the darkened hallway, brightly announcing Leo's return. Before he was even fully formed, he told his sort-of wife in a whisper, "It's okay. I've got it."

Even as he reached down and picked up the pacifier, stuck it in his mouth to clean it off, and then handed it over to Piper's overloaded hand, another swirl of orbs was forming a person right next to him. "Dad, they aren't in the attic," a disembodied but familiar (and entirely too loud) voice informed them. "They weren't in your room either. Did you . . . " When the body was fully formed, Christopher stared out at them, clearly unsure of what to say. " . . . You found them."

Both babies, awakened first by the bright lights and then loud voices, began to cry. They started to cry even harder when they must have somehow realized that neither Mommy nor Grandpa were listening to them at all. The grownups were too busy standing there with their mouths agape, not knowing what to do or say.

Piper had been expecting this ever since Leo had taken off to go find their son over an hour ago, but she still wasn't ready for it. Nothing in the world could have prepared her for this, even after seeing him briefly in the attic. She'd spent the last nine days trying to figure out how to mourn and celebrate her son at the same time. She had just told her grandmother and father that her son was dead, yet there he was. She was willing to bet that if she reached out and touched him, he would be solid and warm and alive. What was she supposed to think about that? Seeing Chris standing there in front of her was . . . She didn't have a word for it. Words had pretty much failed her. All she could do was ask, "Chris? Ar-are you okay?"

Christopher just stopped and blinked hard, shocked. He knew he should probably say something, but what was he supposed to say? He could see it in their faces; Leo really hadn't been kidding. Everyone really thought he was dead and . . . Oh, man. His poor mother . . . Maybe he should have waited for Leo to say something about his appearance before he'd said anything . . . But still, wow. She looked beautiful. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was, even when she wasn't in the best of moods. He wondered, if he hugged her, if she would still smell like cookies. She had always been baking when he was a kid. She had said that she was trying to remember what it was like to not have to be a witch when she was in the kitchen. He loved that smell on her, but a hug was a long way off. He'd be lucky if he could get through the next five minutes. Still, she was visibly worried, but she looked so good.

Victor knew his eyes had to be bulging, but he couldn't stop them. Piper had only just told him that his grandson was dead, murdered, and yet there he was, standing right there in front of them. He was covered in blood and looking far too pale to be real, but there he was. A little too loud to be under his breath, Victor mumbled in amazement, "I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do, I do, I do, I do, I do believe in spooks."

Piper's head whipped around so fast that hair caught in her mouth. She bit on the strands as she hissed, "Dad!"

Defensively, Victor half-chuckled, "I'm sorry, Honey, but I swear, this house sees more dead people than a graveyard."

"Dad!"

"It's okay, Piper," Christopher dashed in, attempting to rescue his grandfather. The poor guy looked like he really had just been spooked, and if everything Leo had told him was in fact the truth, being spooked was probably the most logical reaction the man would have. Granted, the man probably could have found a better way to express his shock, but still . . . Christopher got the joke. He'd watched that movie with his grandfather millions of times when he was a kid and again when Victor was dying. It had been their private joke for a long time, even if, in this time, Grandpa didn't know it yet. Besides, it was Grandpa. He couldn't leave his grandfather just hanging there. Gently, Christopher defended the man. "Really. I don't mind. Leo explained everything."

Trying incredibly hard not to sound in any way hurt or unhappy with her son's appearance, Piper still had to ask about the first of many obvious changes in her son. Being alive was a slight change, yeah? But there had to be an easier place to start. The rest of it was too big right now. Best to start small. She groaned a little in between words from the strain as she attempted to shift the boy in her arms, making her sound more sarcastic than concerned. "'_Piper_'? '_Leo_'? What happened to '_Mom_' or '_Dad_'?"

Christopher's eyes popped wide open in classic Deer In Headlights formation. Ever since he had realized that he was coming to a place in time where his family would know exactly who he was, he knew he was going to have to deal with questions like that if he was discovered for who he truly was. He had tried so very hard to separate the people in this part of time, the people who had yet to become the people that he knew and loved, from all that he had ever known. He and Lucy both had spent months trying to remind themselves that '_Piper and Leo_' weren't the same people as '_Mom and Dad_'. They both thought it would be easier that way. Faced with it now, though, it was no easier. It was damned near unbearable. '_Excruciating_' couldn't even cover it. He was glad Lu wasn't there to have to see it. Her heart had been broken enough lately. He didn't even know if his could take it.

When Piper saw her son's eyes fly open, she immediately felt guilty. He had just come home, and already she was asking questions that had answers he probably wasn't willing to give. She also realized that what she had feared was true: this wasn't Chris. This was someone else. '_Mom and Dad_' hadn't gone anywhere because he didn't remember what had happened before. They had been trying so hard not to see Chris in the baby, not yet, that it hadn't occurred to her that they might never let Christopher be 'Chris'. She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did. It was in the eyes. So she gave this son her best understanding smile that she could manage under the circumstances and said softly, "Nevermind. We can talk about that later. We have a few other things about all of this that need to be cleared up before we even get around to those kinds of questions."

"That's an understatement," said Victor under his breath, again too loud to be unheard. He resituated the fussing Wyatt around so that he was straddling his grandfather's hip again. The boy was clearly not wanting to be lying down in the man's arms. He wanted to be looking around and seeing all of the action going on. Victor could understand that. He did, too. After all, how often did someone from the future come back from the dead in the front hallway?

"_Dad_, knock it off," Piper warned one last time.

"Sorry," he said, bouncing Wyatt once to make it a little more comfortable for the both of them.

"Good. Thank you. Okay — now, which one of you wants to go first," asked Piper, focusing solely on Leo and Chris. Although her words suggested that either of them might be the one to start explaining, the evil eye she was giving Leo left no room for interpretation. He had better start explaining, and he'd better do it fast, or he'd be sleeping somewhere a lot less comfortable than the sofa when they all finally went to bed in a few hours.

The most the angel could manage to say, though, was a nervous "Uh . . . Um, Piper . . . Uh . . . "

As Leo's voice faltered, there was a stiff silence dropped over the room. Leo and Christopher both rammed their fists into their back pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of their feet. Neither one of them could look at anyone else in the room. Looking for something to do, Leo sidled over to Piper after a moment and took their infant son out of her arms to try and soothe at least one version of their younger boy. With her arms free, Piper was left with nothing to do with her hands and was suddenly lost. This was not turning out to be her best Mom moment of all time. She was standing there doing absolutely nothing, and it wasn't making any sense to her. It was just as she was feeling her worst when Wyatt started fussing much more loudly, giving her a reason to take over and do something again. The standing there and doing nothing was killing her. Taking Wyatt from her father and being a mother was going to suit her just fine.

What she didn't see coming, though, was Chris, the adult Christopher, jumping in (apparently without even thinking about it). He moved forward like he'd been handling children for years, with his arms stretched out. He wasn't even looking directly at the child he was reaching for, as if he was quite accustomed to carrying on a conversation and taking care of children at the same time, a skill that Piper had only seen easily managed by other parents and grandparents. As if it were part of his everyday routine, Christopher said to his parents without seeing his brother, "I've got this one. You guys get the other one upstairs. I'll follow — Whoa! What _the hell_ is that?"

Christopher's hands had been caught just short of reaching Wyatt when they had taken on an unexpected shock. The toddler's protective bubble had come up around him, warbling there in the darkness of the hallway with an eerie thinness to it. Somehow, Wyatt had been able to control the amount of shock sent to the man who (probably in his eyes) looked like Chris but couldn't be Chris. Apparently, Wyatt wasn't taking any chances, but didn't want to hurt the man either, just in case. So a small shock the man received.

Confused, the parents both glanced at Wyatt, each other, and then Wyatt again. Piper came up right next to him and her father, both concerned at Wyatt's reaction and understanding exactly what it was that he was feeling. Of course she did. She was just as confused about what was going on. If she was confused, there was no way that she could expect that her two-year-old son wouldn't be just as upset, if not more so. This was going to be a hard one to explain, no question. Piper looked over to Leo and saw without asking that he was thinking the same thing. Together they smiled at him to try to settle him down at least enough for Piper to be able to get through to him. After a moment of them making ridiculously happy faces at him, Wyatt lowered his shield enough so that his mother could look him over, pouting as her hand took his and shook it.

"Hey, little man, what's the matter?"

"'Ommy, not 'ris," he cried before sticking his thumb back in his mouth and glaring at the man who he probably thought was an imposter. He pulled his thumb back out, grumbled, and put it back in. "Nonono. 'ou not 'ris! No!"

"What _is_ that," Christopher asked again, looking very concerned at his brother. He shook his hands to try to get the sting out of them. What in the world was that thing, and why weren't his parents in the least bit concerned about it? They knew why he was here. Did they not get it? Was he truly already there too late to save his brother, again? Damn, that thing hurt. What _was_ that?

"I'll run up and get Phoebe to take him," Leo suggested. He glanced between Wyatt and Christopher, sadly seeing that his elder son's protective bubble, while less dangerous, was still obviously up. They both looked so confused. At least Christopher was an adult, though. He would be able to understand once they had a chance to explain. Wyatt might not. This was definitely going to be one of those times where it was going to be a lot easier to do things if his boys were separated. "It's okay, Christopher. He's just confused by seeing you, I think. He'll get over it. I don't think this is something we're going to be able to explain to Wyatt in one night, though. It would probably be better to get him out of the room. As for the shield, Piper, you explain this one."

"Oooh-hoho, oh, no," Piper stopped him, huffing dangerously. "Nice try. You're not going anywhere, and I am not letting you out of my sight until you explain some of this to me."

Leo felt Christopher flinch at his side. He knew that the poor kid had had enough explaining for one night. Frankly, so had he. In an attempt to buy himself and Christopher some time, Leo argued, "Piper, we are not going to stand here and deal with all of this in the dark."

"Then maybe someone should turn some lights on," said Phoebe's voice from the top of the stairs. As her footfalls echoed on the creaking stairs, she asked, "What are you guys doing down here? And why aren't the boys in bed? It's _way_ past their — holy god, how did he get here?" It was dark in the foyer, but not so dark that Phoebe couldn't see the form of her youngest nephew standing there in the middle of it. He was right there, covered in blood and looking incredibly pale in the glow of his brother's shield. She blinked a few times, thinking that it was just like her memories that she'd been sharing with Chris lately. She'd be able to blink it away. She had to. Like a ghost, he would be gone when she opened her eyes again. He couldn't be real. Even when Piper had told her that she'd seen him upstairs, she had thought that it was just a dream or something. Piper must have wanted to see Chris so badly that he'd appeared, like a flash. They were witches, after all. Their powers were tied to their emotions. Piper probably had conjured him without being aware that she'd done it. Now she was doing it, too. Her nephew was only there because she wanted to see him. That had to be it. So Phoebe tried to blink him away a few times, slower and faster, but each time she opened her eyes, he was still there. Chris was there and alive. It was . . . Her head flashed between the boy and his mother as she addressed her sister. "He's here. He's right there. How is that again?"

"How very observant of you, Pheebs," Piper dripped. "I only told you I'd seen him."

Phoebe huffed dismissively at her sister. "Yeah, but I thought you were just seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time, but that's really not the point. How in the world did he get here? Did you check him for a pulse? Because he looks half-dead to me."

Christopher fought the urge to remind them all that he was standing right there by staring eye to eye with his brother, who wouldn't take his eyes off of him either. He'd never seen his brother's eyes look so clear before. Wyatt's eyes had almost always been dark to him, but somehow, they were this amazing blue that he'd never seen. It was almost easier to watch Wyatt than to actually have to listen to his mother and aunt bicker about him. As far as he was concerned, Leo could straighten them all out and he'd fill in the rest of the gaps later. He was tired of explaining. Still, in the back of his mind, he was reminding them, 'He_ is standing right here, thank you very much. Get your eyes checked — and while you're at it, quit talking about me like I'm not here_.'

Leo interrupted his sister-in-law with a slumping sigh, "I was just coming up to tell you."

"Tell me now," said Phoebe, narrowing her eyes and clutching onto the stair's railing to keep from pitching down the stairs in her astonished confusion. When Leo opened his mouth to explain, Phoebe's hand shot up to silence him. She turned her protective, sisterly anger on the not-so-dead boy next to Leo, who jumped at his aunt's shout. "You! You're going to explain. And then you're going to apologize to your mother and great-grandmother for giving them both heart attacks."

"Nonsense, Phoebe," interrupted Penny from the top of the stairs in that sarcastic, airy way that she had of saying just about anything condescending to her girls. Her hands flared out dramatically as she reaffirmed for anyone who wasn't already completely certain of her status, "I'm already dead. A heart attack is the least of my problems these days." Her voice dropped a little, as if she meant to say only to herself, "It still itches once in a while, though."

"Making a point here, Grams," Phoebe shooshed her grandmother. She threw her hand out in Christopher's direction emphatically and made a face that clearly said, "_Duh!_"

Penny obviously didn't like her granddaughter's tone, both verbal and physical, and would have no problem letting the girl know as much. In that authoritative voice she only used on her girls when she'd had enough backtalk from them, she snapped, "No, young lady, you weren't. You were yelling, and if anyone is going to be doing the yelling here right now, it's going to be your sister. So why don't you wait to see what she wants to do before you go attacking the boy into another early grave, hmmm?"

"GRAMS!"

While both sisters, completely mortified at her comment, admonished their grandmother for having an inappropriate sense of gallows humor, Christopher chuckled to himself. He relaxed a little and jammed his hands back into his back pockets, looking down at his feet to try to hide the smirk on his face. He'd really missed this. He needed some kind of laugh today, any kind of laugh. That Grams was here and being Grams was always good for one of those. There was no greater lady in the Ghostly Plane than his great-grandmother. She could make anything lively, and for a ghost, that was saying something. And Phoebe . . . well, it was kind of fun to watch Grams slap Phoebe around a little bit. Seeing Piper and Phoebe ganging up on Grams was always a treat, too. That many powerful witches in a room was always good for a few fireworks, verbal or otherwise. As long as it wasn't him being picked on, it was fine with him. They could go on trading insults all night long as long as they left him out of it. Still, he supposed it would go a long way toward getting Phoebe's forgiveness if he at least attempted to rescue her, so he quietly, sheepishly said into the floor, "_I_ thought it was funny."

Without even realizing that she was snapping, Phoebe turned her anger on Christopher. She barked, "Chris, I love you, I do, but I really would like an answer from someone in this room who is actually living. Thanks."

This time, it was Piper and Penny's chance to yell. "PHOEBE!"

While everyone was yelling at each other and getting absolutely nowhere, no one was noticing that Wyatt wasn't exactly happy with everything that was going on. Victor assumed that the boy's squirming around in his arms was from all of the commotion of people yelling and waking him up. No one heard him say in a small, panicky voice, "'at's 'at? No. Go 'way! 'ad! No!" No one heard him at all. It wasn't until bright blue-white orbs darted in dangerously from the kitchen that anyone paid him any attention.

Christopher's attention was more than turned on Wyatt when suddenly, without any provocation or warning, he was suddenly orbing out of the hallway. As his body was being whisked away by orbs not of his own doing, his very freaked out voice floated behind him. "What the — "

Just as Christopher's body orbed out of the way, the other set of darting orbs collided with the wall, solidifying into the same lethal blade that had attacked some unseen thing in the kitchen door. All eyes flickered between the knife embedded in the wall and the boy who they knew had thrown it. They all looked to one another, not sure what in the world to think.

Piper's heart stopped. The last time she'd seen her son do anything with a sharp object was the time that he had rammed a sword right into a man's chest. A knife wasn't the same as a sword, sure, but with the amount of time that she spent keeping her best knives in tip-top sharpness, it was certainly just as deadly. That the weapon had been directed right at Chris was just a little much to bear. What in the world was going on? Why was Wyatt so afraid? He'd spent nearly two years with the older version of his brother without too much difficulty. Wyatt had even learned how to play with Chris without raising his shield at all. Wyatt trusted Chris. What was he doing throwing knives at him now? Frightened, Piper reached her hands out to her eldest son to try to hold him and give him at least some sense of security, but he pulled away from her with a dark pout.

"No."

"Honey," she started to plead, but was rewarded with only another pout. At rope's end, she threw her hands up in the air. With hurt and frustration in her voice, she pleaded with him, "Okay, Wyatt, I can only handle one of my kids keeping secrets and making me feel like a lousy mother tonight. So one of you has to take a number here."

"He did the same thing in the kitchen," Victor offered, thinking that it was as good a time as any to tell his daughter that her son had been flinging knives in multiple directions that evening. "I was — "

Before her father could defend himself, Piper interrupted angrily, "He _what_? Dad, why didn't you say something? A two-year-old throwing knives didn't seem at all odd to you?"

"I've got a better question for you right now," Phoebe started as she thumped the rest of the way down the staircase. She stepped over next to Leo and waved her hand through the air in the space where Christopher had been standing. Concerned, she asked, "Where's Chris?"

"He's right here, and it's Christopher." The witch's disembodied voice announced his re-arrival with which he was clearly unhappy. When he was fully formed once again, he was shuffling his fingers through his rain-soaked hair, flinging water everywhere. He made an ugly face like a cat that had just been dumped in water as he flung water from his hands as well. Being wet was even worse than being orbed out of the room without his say-so (although he and Wyatt would most definitely be addressing that issue once the kid wasn't trying to kill him). Annoyed, he grumbled, "And he's very wet."

Giving up on trying to figure out the absurdity of the one situation in order to work on this new one, Phoebe tried not to look too amused at her obviously uncomfortable nephew as she asked, "Where did you go?"

Irritated, Christopher bit back, "_I_ didn't _go_ anywhere. He orbed me to the roof!"

Wyatt's thumb popped out of his mouth long enough for him to shout, "Go 'way!" As soon as his thumb was back in his mouth, he blinked his eyes. Bluish orbs surrounded his adult younger brother once again, starting upward.

Christopher was ready for it, though, and he immediately settled himself back onto the floor. Instead of bothering to ask anyone else, he went straight to the source, even though he knew he wasn't going to get an answer. That game was going to get really old really fast, and he didn't want to play anymore. He leaned his face in as close to Wyatt as he could without being shocked again and asked him in as nice a voice as possible, "Okay, Wyatt. What's the deal?"

Wyatt pulled away and started crying, burying his face into his grandfather's shoulder. His voice was high-pitched and tearful as he told his mother, "'Ommy, 'at not 'ris. 'ot."

Confused, Penny floated down the rest of the stairs as well and asked as if it were the most logical question in all the world, "If he isn't Chris, Wyatt, who is he?"

"Bad 'an," the toddler said, tears clogging his voice and nose. He sniffled and pointed again to a very confused Christopher and tried unsuccessfully to orb him away again. "Go 'way!"

As an increasingly annoyed Christopher reconstituted himself on the floor, he flung his arms up in the air at his father. "I am _not_ going to do this all night. Would you talk to him, please?"

Leo stepped in and got his face in as close to Victor's shoulder as Wyatt's protective bubble would allow. He put on a gentle smile on his face and tried to settle his son down. "It's okay, buddy. It really is." He straightened his neck up again and looked at the others. "We should probably get him out of here until we figure out how we're going to explain this one. Phoebe, could you?"

Never unwilling to take her nephew, Phoebe wrung her hands greedily and marched right up to her father and Wyatt. She smiled at the boy, who had yet to let his shield down. She extended her hands as far she could without being shocked and bribed, "C'mon, Wyatt. We're going to get you and your brother upstairs. It'll be a lot more fun up there than it is down here. What do you say? Your brother is going to. We'll have a lot of fun. We'll read any story you want as many times as you want. You wanna come hang out upstairs with your auntie Phoebe and Grams?"

It took a moment of smiling pleadings and a little more of her baby talk, but eventually Wyatt let down his blue bubble and allowed Phoebe to take him into her arms. As the room was plunged into near darkness again without the light of his shield, Phoebe happily squeezed her nephew tightly, smoothing his hair as she leaned him in toward her father's face. "Are you going to give your grandpa kisses?"

They made the rounds between parents and grandparents with both of the boys once Penny greedily took her new great-grandson into her arms for the first time. They all kissed the boys '_Good Night_', except for Christopher, who thought it better that he stay out of the small circle until his temperamental older brother could no longer see him. He didn't feel like taking any more unexpected trips to the roof at his brother's expense. He also very carefully avoided having to kiss himself, the weirdness of it just too much for even him to handle. His day had been weird enough already.

When at last everyone was ready to head up the stairs, Piper gave her sons one last wave. To her sister and grandmother, she offered her thanks. "Come on down once they're asleep. We'll try not to say anything too important until you get back."

"We should probably call Paige," added Phoebe, nodding emphatically toward Christopher. "The last thing we need is her walking in the door to find him sitting there without some warning."

"Not yet," disagreed Leo. His throat closed up on him as he pictured the many different things that he'd felt at seeing his son alive again. He could only imagine how much worse it was going to be for Paige. She had been with him longer and seen so much more of Chris's last moments. They hadn't said anything about it, but it had become clear this afternoon that the two of them had a special understanding. They were the only ones who could really know what it had been like that day. None of them would ever understand. So now that Christopher was here and she would eventually have to see him, it was up to Leo to tell her about it. To have the news come from anyone else right now would probably make the situation worse for her right now, not better. Unsure of how to put that into words for anyone else to understand, Leo stammered along as quickly as possible. "She'll be at the club until at least closing. I'll go over there once everyone's out and talk to her then. She's going to need a little more time to work it out before she comes home and sees him. Trust me."

"Yeah," Piper agreed tightly with an uncomfortable shake of her head and squint of her eyes. "Whatever is going on with her, she's having a hard time with it. I don't know if it's Chris or what, but she's having a thing. We have no idea how she'll react to all of this. It's better if we tell her once we can give her a full explanation of things — which is also what I'm waiting for, too, so . . . " She waved at her small children and then turned her wrists around, fanning her sister and grandmother out of the way. "G'night, my beautiful little men. Now get your aunt and great-grandmother out of here so that your daddy can tell me what the H-E-L-L is going on. I love you, but go away."

"Yeah, yeah," Phoebe grumbled and rolled her eyes. They started up the first step with her waving Wyatt's small hands one more time in the direction of the people they were leaving behind. "Tell them '_nuh-nigh_', Honey. Nuh-nigh."

"G'night," the various parents and brother called out to them as they started the trudge up the wooden staircase. "Night, night."

The last they heard from the children and their handlers was Penny's voice floating down the stairs in a voice that was far too loud not to be deliberate. "It's going to be just fine, Wyatt. Now that we have you away from that wicked Wiccan philistine you call your grandfather, everything is going to be just fine . . . "

Christopher gave Leo a look and, to his father's surprise, a crooked smile flashed over his face. It was gone as soon as it appeared, but it had been there. Then Christopher's still blood-stained hand raked through his hair because he needed to do _something_ with his hands to remind him that he was safe and not as trapped as he was starting to feel. With a wry chuckle, he said to his father, "Well, at least I know now that some things never change. He still hates me, and he still wants to kill me. No, really. It's comforting."

"We'll figure this out, Christopher," Leo said reassuringly. "We will."

Thinking about the family in the future that needed that to be true as much as he needed to believe it, Christopher sighed, "Yeah. I hope so."

Another awkward silence fell over the hallway. Christopher and Leo kept looking to one another so that Christopher could keep from looking at his mother or grandfather. He could feel them staring at him, but he knew he couldn't look at them, not yet. He wouldn't know what to say to them if he turned to them yet. It wasn't until Piper tried to get his attention that words fell into place. He wasn't sure if they were the right words, but he had to use them anyway. Anything else was too hard.

"Chris," Piper started slowly. "I'm sorry, _Christopher_. You'd think I would be used to that by now, but seeing you all grown up . . . You look just like Chris. Of course you do. It's just . . ."

Keeping his voice a whisper, Christopher walked over to the witch and put his arms around her, feeling her hair under his chin for the first time in seven years. He knew that he was probably holding her a little too tight, but that didn't really matter. She was holding him tight enough that he couldn't breathe either. "I'm so sorry, Pi-_Mom_. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't know about . . . I'm really sorry."

"But you're okay," she asked into his chest. She would sort out the mess of Who was Who and Who did What later. Right now, all that mattered was that the boy in her arms was safe and unharmed. Looking for a little more convincing, she started to ask, "The blood, it isn't . . . "

Christopher opened his eyes and glanced up at his father, exchanging a mutual look that told him that they both understood that the best thing for him to do at the moment was lie. So with a sarcastic, wry chuckle, Christopher smiled into his mother's hair and said simply, "I had a rough time getting here, that's all. I'm okay."

Piper pulled back so that she could look at her son through her misty eyes. She held on to him with one arm and wiped at her eyes with the other hand, sniffing a little as she asked, "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Half laughing and half crying, Piper snuffled, "Okay, but if it's all the same to you, I'd still like to get you out of those bloody clothes, okay?"

Christopher pulled the bloody shirt out from his side so that he could get the first really good look at it that he'd had in the light. That really _was_ a lot of blood. It didn't matter that it wasn't his. It was a lot of blood, and he didn't want to have to look at it any more than they did. He shrugged and offered his mother a half of a smile. "That might be a good idea. Yeah."

"Well, they'll be a little big, but your dad has some clothes in the closet that I'm sure would at least be more comfortable than these are."

"That'd be great."

Looking down, Piper kicked her toe at the scuffed up sandals on his feet. "Who let you wear those with that suit, young man?"

Leo laughed, feeling a little validated in having thought that exact same thing when he'd seen his son's ensemble when he'd come through the attic door. He continued to chuckle as he clapped Christopher on the shoulder and told him, "I'll go get you something."

"No, don't go," said Christopher all too fast but with a barely perceptible touch of panic. He wasn't ready to let his father out of his sight yet. He didn't exactly know who his allies were or how things were going to work, and since his father was the only piece of safety he had so far, he didn't want to let it go. "I-it can wait. We can go later. Let's just get this over with, 'cause if I don't close my eyes here pretty soon, I'm going to drop."

Seeing that Christopher was starting to get that trapped, uncomfortable look to his eyes again, the one he'd been wearing most of the time on the bridge, Leo nodded. "Sure. Although, you know, I really don't think there's anything else we can do tonight anyway. Unless you guys want to start thumbing through The Book of Shadows, I don't think it would be such a bad idea to call it a night."

Christopher didn't like that idea any better. He didn't _want_ to close his eyes, not yet. Part of him wondered, if he closed his eyes and slept, if all of this would still be here when he woke up. What if seeing his parents again was only a dream? What if none of the things that had happened today had actually happened to him? What if he had to go through all of that again tomorrow? No, quitting for the night was a bad, bad idea. "It's okay. I can go for a while yet. I'm just saying that it won't be for very long."

Almost as if she could read his mind, Piper said softly, "We'll still be here in the morning. We can talk about things then."

"No. I want to get this part over with."

Leo tried to reassure his son, but was cut off at the pass. "Christopher — "

"I — "

Piper, too, tried to convince her son at the same time as her husband that everything would still be okay in the morning, only to have Christopher cut her off as well. "Honey, it's okay, if — "

Finally snapping at his parents' inability to hear him, Christopher exasperatedly groaned, "Really, you guys, I need you to — "

"Hey," Victor jumped in, his voice just loud enough to cover everyone else's. "Piper, Leo, give the kid a chance to breathe, would you? And Christopher, watch that tone when you talk to your parents, young man." As everyone took a breath and calmed down, Victor grinned around the hallway at his family, seeing them all actually listen to him for once. "Now, look. I'm just as confused as the rest of you, but none of us is going to get any answers if we're all yelling. So let's all go sit down in the living room. Piper, I'll help you make some tea and coffee. Leo, you can run upstairs and get Christopher some clothes. Then we can all sit, relax, and try to figure out how we're going to start the day tomorrow because not a one of you looks like you're ready to do anything at all tonight other than talk anyway. Is that workable? Can we all do this and not jump down anyone else's throats?"

Properly reproved, the three of them nodded at one another and Victor in peace.

Surprised at the success of his argument, Victor marveled as he tried to further his plan along. "Well, then . . . Uh . . . Great. Okay. Good. This is good. So let's get moving then. Leo, go get the kid some clothes. Christopher, go with him. Piper, let's go whip something up fast in the kitchen. We'll meet back here in five minutes. Let's go."

With that and a bright circle of anxious grins, the family moved off into their separate missions. Father and Son disappeared up the stairs, the sounds of their footfalls echoing up behind them. Father and Daughter swept into the kitchen, the sounds of Piper teasing her father fading as her stockinged feet slid across the wooden floors.

A few minutes later, people started finding their way back to the living room, milling around nervously without saying much to each other. Piper kept ducking in and out as she brought in various items from the kitchen, suddenly bound and determined to put some color in her son's pale cheeks. Victor followed her, carrying as much as he could for the apparent feast that was piling up on the living room coffee table, but he stopped when Christopher came back down. The boy hadn't changed out of the bloody clothes yet and looked like he could really use the company. Piper looked curiously at him when she came back in with a load of plates and silver, but didn't say anything, leaving the talking to her father for a moment.

Victor watched his grandson pace along the back of the sofa, his curiosity and his concern both sufficiently peaked. Softly, Victor asked, "Didn't find anything that would fit, huh?"

Christopher seemed to jump at the sound of his grandfather's voice. He looked out toward the hallway and where Leo would be coming down the stairs soon instead of trying to even allow himself to look at his grandfather. His voice was barely audible as he answered, "He's looking. I forgot that they had put the nursery in their old closet. I thought it would be best if I just came back down. I didn't want to wake Wyatt up and have him try to send me to Timbuktu or something this time."

"That's probably a good idea," Victor chuckled to cover up his concern. His gaze followed Christopher's to the stairway. He would have been amused by the look on Christopher's face if it wasn't so genuine. The last time they had seen each other, Chris wanted nothing to do with his father, but this time around, the boy obviously didn't want to let his father out of his sight. Trying to keep his grandson's mind occupied, Victor asked, "So your dad's upstairs then?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be down in a minute. So why don't we sit down, huh? You look really tired."

Christopher closed his eyes, trying not to actually hear the words his grandfather was saying. He wished Grandpa wouldn't be so . . . grandfatherly. He didn't want to do it like this. He wasn't ready. He wasn't even remotely ready to be doing this. All he wanted right now was for his father to get downstairs so that he would have an excuse to leave the room and go change clothes or something. But Leo just wasn't coming fast enough. Trying his best not to sound like he was in any way uncomfortable, he put a little more air behind his words so that they would sound normal as he said, "I'm fine."

"Please?"

Pained, Christopher did everything he could not to look at his grandfather. A tear escaped his eye anyway as he said almost cheerfully, "Grandpa, I'm really okay."

Smiling crookedly at his grandson's back, Victor agreed, "I know you are, but I'm not. This is all just a little much for me, so why don't we sit down, okay?"

Reluctantly, Christopher sat down in the corner of the sofa, squeezing himself in and trying to make himself as small as possible. Victor sat down in the chair facing him. They sat in silence as Piper came bustling back into the room with another armful. She looked between them as she made to leave and, when she saw that they weren't talking at all as she'd hoped, Piper prodded her father with a nice hard fist to his shoulder. He gave her back a nasty look until she was out of sight, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. On a mission now, he would get something of an answer out of his grandson if it killed him.

"You know you scared your mother," Victor teased, giving his grandson a loving but evil eye. "Maybe you should burst through magical portals with a little less blood next time, huh?"

Christopher didn't know what to do or say, so he figured it was best not to say anything at all. He played with his tie instead, flipping the end of it between his index and middle fingers, watching the light catch on the metallic sheen of the black and silver checks. He had never liked ties. The only time he had ever worn one for an occasion other than for a funeral was for Phoebe's wedding when he was nine. Ties weren't anything he could associate with a happy occasion. But if he had to pick a favorite of all his ties, this one would be it. Lucy had bought it for him last year to go with the silver tie clip their grandfather had given him for sentimental purposes. Dear god, he had just buried his grandfather eight hours ago. How was he supposed to sit here and just have a normal conversation with the man when he could still taste the bad frosting from the chocolate sheet cake they'd been serving that afternoon after his funeral? He couldn't. This wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal, even for this family. His grandfather was sitting there, being his usual self with him, and it was awful. All of this, being surrounded by family he loved and hadn't seen for so long . . . it was terrible.

That his grandson was avoiding looking at him did not go unnoticed by Victor. He gave the boy a moment, but after that, he had to at least know what was going on with his grandson. He turned on his best Grandpa grin and asked, "Hey, Chris? Talk to me. You know you can always tell me anything. What's wrong?"

"G-grandpa, I — I can't do this," Christopher muttered, unable to look at the man or stop his lower lip from trembling.

Piper, who was bending over the coffee table with yet another tray of sandwiches, set the tray down and swiveled around just enough to get a clear look at her son. Suddenly, he looked to her like he was about to start hyperventilating if someone didn't calm him down, fast. His overbright green eyes were darting around the room like he was looking for the clearest path to the nearest exit. Concerned, she crouched down, reached a hand over, and put it soothingly on his knee. "Christopher?"

"I c-c-can't," the boy said again, his teeth starting to chatter from the grief-induced chills.

Before anyone knew what was going on, Christopher catapulted himself out of his seat. There wasn't time to even call his name as he bolted out into the hall then out the front door without any further explanation. Leo was caught in the whirlwind as Christopher blew past him, too far out of arm's reach. Confused, he took one step after his boy but stopped himself, looking back into the living room. He switched glances between the door that Christopher forgot to close behind him and the shell-shocked face of his son's mother. He knew exactly what was going on without having to ask at all. Seeing all the food piling up in front of Victor, he knew. Piper had been running back and forth, leaving Christopher alone with his grandfather. No wonder Christopher hadn't wanted to be left without his father. After a moment, he saw Piper drawing breath to ask him what was going on, but he stopped her with a sad whisper. "Leave it be, Piper. You can't fix this."

"What '_this_', Leo? I have no idea what's going on here. I can't fix something that I don't even know happened. Do you? You know, don't you?"

As much as it pained him, knowing how much he hated the answer, he finally understood that it was for the good of the family every time Chris had said it. He tried not to look at her as he made his way into the living room and said, "I can't tell you. It could change the — "

"Ooohhh, no, you don't," Piper angrily chuckled as she warned him. "Nuh-uh. This isn't the time for that. You tell us what's going on with him. If we are going to get through this, we are doing it as a family this time. No secrets. No lies. No _'Future Consequences_'. We aren't taking any chances with this Chris or with Wyatt. I won't."

"This isn't about Wyatt, Piper. You . . . I think — You need to leave him alone right now."

"If it isn't about Wyatt, then what?"

Unable to control himself — _No wonder Chris had been such a basket case before to have to keep all of his secrets; you can't even last ten minutes under the pressure, jackass_ — Leo sat down on the only clear space left on the coffee table in front of his wife and father-in-law. He carefully folded his hands on his knees after a quick gesture toward Victor to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts and breath. He had no idea how to explain the future to them any more than the other Chris had. Leo only wished he would have realized that sooner so that maybe he could have avoided this question a lot better. But he hadn't dodged it, and now he needed to find some way to answer them so that they would leave Christopher to himself for a while. Mechanically, because that seemed like the easiest way to go, he said, "When I got to the future, he had a house full of people. They had just come back from the cemetery." He gave Victor a pointed but sympathetic smile. "He just buried you this afternoon."

Visibly paling but more concerned about Christopher than himself, Victor muttered, "Oh, wow. He . . . _wow_. Poor kid."

"Yeah," Leo nodded, knowing that his father-in-law at least had some concept of what he was trying to say.

"Well, no wonder he isn't okay," said Piper sadly, somehow unable to look at her father. She reached for his hand, though, and held it tightly. "Was he — I mean, how did he seem when you got there?"

"I wasn't with them for very long, but the kids were pretty devastated. I hate to put it that way, but they were. They tried to . . . I don't know. They just seemed lost. They covered it up with jokes, but they were so very lost." Leo felt lost himself, still not quite over seeing the kids when they had been just sitting there on the attic sofa, trying to comfort one another in something that they knew they would find no comfort in. He cleared his throat, willing himself to change direction and keep himself from revealing too much. And yet, maybe if they knew something about what was going on, this time it would be a little easier for them to figure out how to solve the problem, like Piper said, as a family. Maybe just this once . . . "If Christopher wants to tell you about it, Victor, he'll tell you. Otherwise, I think you should let him have some time. He's had a _really_ nasty day today. When they were getting ready to — That is, when we were all getting ready to leave, there was . . . I didn't get close enough to check, but I think his brother murdered their Whitelighter when they tried to escape. I couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not. His great-grandmother was blown back to the Ghostly Plane in a way that makes me wonder if she's all right. I had to leave his pregnant — Well, he had to leave someone behind after she had been injured and was tortured right in front of us by his brother. All in all, I'd say it's been a tough — " Suddenly Leo stopped and cocked his head to the side. His eyes flew open and even as he orbed out without warning, he growled angrily, "_Barbas!_"

"Uh, Leo?" Piper glared angrily up at the ceiling where her sort-of husband had so quickly disappeared. "What the — Great! You know what? I give up. Okay? Leo? I give up!"

Confused, Victor asked, "Who's Barbie? Bubba? Whatever?"

"Barbas, Dad," Piper almost choked, furious. Sighing as she realized that she had barely even begun to tell her father the story of what had been happening in their lives since the last time he'd been home, she slumped back into her chair again. "There's a lot about what happened with Chris that I haven't had the time to tell you about yet. You better get comfortable."

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	5. When the Thought of You Catches Up

**Chapter Five  
When the Thought of You Catches Up With Me**

**I.**

Christopher tiredly threw his hand up and behind his head, reaching for the pretty much useless cell phone on the coffee table that had become a makeshift nightstand. The technology of the phone hadn't been invented yet, but somehow it was managing to annoy him as much in the past as it had in his own time. It had been ringing off the hook at night, all night, every night, making him want to smash the thing with a very large and very lethal hammer. When he'd answered it, only static had greeted him, every time. Still, he answered it on the first ring anyway, maybe even before. He wasn't sure. He just knew that he was expecting the call. Before he even heard the voice on the other end, he happily marveled, "You aren't dead!"

"Well, I'm not going to leave it up to interpretation, that's for sure," Lucy's voice said dryly into his ear, surrounded by a cone of static. "You knew he wouldn't kill me. I don't know what you were so worried about. For whatever reason, he could do whatever he wanted to the rest of the family, but he always had a soft spot for you and me. I'm not saying a bolt through the shoulder isn't a little bullyish, but Wyatt could never kill me. That doesn't really matter right now, though. Are _you_ okay? What's wrong?"

Only hearing every other word, Christopher struggled to put her thoughts together into a sentence before giving up and asking, "Where are you? I can barely hear you."

The girl's laugh was eerie, echoing in the phone before she'd even let the air out to do it, as if she wasn't really on the other end at all. "Of course you can't, you bum! We're talking over twenty-five years' worth of life and chances. There's bound to be some static. Besides, where you are, there is no certainty that I'm even going to exist. You're lucky to be getting through to me at all."

"Getting through to you? You're the one who called me, remember?"

"No, I didn't. You called me. You have had this phone ringing off the hook all week. I had to turn it off just to keep him from hearing it ring constantly. So what's wrong? I don't have a whole lot of battery left, so as much as I love you, we're going to have to get this one done kind of fast. So spill it."

Christopher pulled the phone away from his ear and shook it, annoyed that again he'd caught only a few words. He had no idea whatsoever what she had said to him. "Damn it," he swore. "I can't hear you. Can you get to a window or something? There's no signal."

As he finished his question, she happily asked him all too clearly, "Can you hear me now?"

Foolishly, Christopher's head whipped up from his pillow so fast that his eyes swam with bright colors from the effort. He blinked a few times to straighten them out, but once they were clear, he had to knuckle them with both fists. It was impossible, but somehow, his sister had just appeared out of nowhere and was sitting calmly and lady-like at the foot of his improvised bed. Too confused to immediately be as relieved as he knew he should be, he stammered at her, "H-how?"

His baby sister shrugged simply at him. "You call, I answer."

"Huh," Christopher mused to himself, both amused and surprised at the plain honesty of her answer. Somehow, at this point, it seemed like as logical an explanation as any. He chuckled again, "Huh. Well . . . okay, I guess."

Lucy giggled and reached toward him, taking hold of his hand that was now oddly reattached to his ear. From it she took his cell phone and tossed it onto the floor without a care. "You won't need that anymore."

Alarmed, Christopher made to sit up and grab for the discarded phone, but she quickly crushed it with the heel of her heavily clad foot. Angrily he snapped, "Are you crazy? What the hell are you thinking? What if you need to call me again, or I need to call you?"

"You can't." She winced apologetically and explained, "This is a one time thing. Wyatt is going to freak out enough as it is when he figures out that I tricked him and called in the first place. He's a little on the grouchy side these days."

"That's an understatement, don't you think?"

"It's a phase, Christopher. He'll get over it one of these days, soon. That's why you're here, isn't it? You wouldn't have tried to come back here if you thought that it couldn't be done or that the family's past, future, whatever couldn't be fixed. You're smarter than that." She gave him a sad smile, one that, for the first time in his life, Christopher couldn't quite decipher what it meant. When she saw the confusion in his eyes, her smile grew even sadder, reaching into her entire body. She quickly overcame it, though, and sat right back up again, a reassuring grin lighting her face. "On the other hand, you can't be your usual stubborn self about it either. You're going to need some help this time."

"Is that an offer," Christopher asked, laughing. After all, hadn't they planned on this being a joint venture all along? Maybe they had gone through a slight set-back, but she was here now. They could do this, together. They could return home together, both safe and sound, to a time that in no way resembled the one that they had come from. The hope of it almost felt like it had to be some kind of a trick, but there she was, and he wasn't about to let her out of his sight again, not even for the slightest second.

Lucy, however, didn't sound as though she was thinking the same thing. "That's not what I meant, Christopher. I'm not the help you're looking for."

"Why not? You don't have to go back," Christopher argued desperately. "Stay here with me until we figure this out. We can fix this. We can."

"No, Christopher, you can't," said a dark, hollow voice from somewhere and everywhere in the room.

Christopher leapt up off his mother's sofa and grabbed his sister by the wrist, pulling her safely behind him. He peeled his eyes, searching the shadows for the voice and its owner, but could see only shadow. Into the darkness, he barked, "Who's there? WHO'S THERE?"

"It's all right," the voice said with a strange soothing air, as if there was nothing dangerous at all about a voice popping up in someone's room in the middle of the night. Christopher was unnerved by the way the voice seemed to know him and what he was thinking as it addressed him. "There is no need to be alarmed, Christopher. Whatever you have been told, you need not fear me."

Suspiciously, Christopher challenged the voice. "Really? Then why are you hiding in the shadows? In my experience, people who lurk around where they can't be seen give me and mine plenty of reason to worry and aren't exactly free of things to be hiding from, if you know what I mean."

"Experience tells me that I cannot exactly trust the members of your family, either. So it would seem that we are both in a bit of a bind."

Before Christopher could stop her, Lucy moved away from behind him and walked to the center of the room between Christopher and where it sounded like the voice was coming from. She smiled at her big brother hopefully. "It's okay, Christopher. He doesn't know any better. He believes his heart, just like you believe yours. We've all been told a lot of lies. It's just a difference of who we heard them from."

"Lucy, come back," Christopher both pleaded and ordered. He didn't like her being out there exposed. He didn't like it at all. Any other time, he would have thought her trusting nature a personality quirk, nothing more, but things were too dangerous for them for her to be so willing to walk into a dark room without turning the lights on first. "Lulu, honey, come back, please. We don't know who this guy is. You can't trust him."

Seeming to know exactly what her brother was thinking, Lucy nodded ruefully. "You're probably right." She then looked off into the mirror across the room where, in it, a somehow eerily still Wyatt was standing, waiting and staring, his arms crossed over his chest. She glanced between her mirrored brothers, caught in the middle, and told Christopher, "But trust is what's kept me alive. Not everything is black and white, good and bad. If that's all we see, well . . . "

Christopher barely heard what she was saying. He was suddenly so wrapped up in watching his brother in the mirror, trying to gauge Wyatt's mood (and more importantly his next move), that he didn't see anything else. In what he told himself had to be some wicked trick of his eyes and sleep-deprived, over-stressed mind, he watched in horrified realization as his brother stepped out of the mirror and made a rapid cross of the space between them. He had never seen his brother move so fast. Wyatt's face was perfectly still, something Christopher hadn't seen in a very, very long time. He'd seen his brother wear nothing but scowls and sneers for so long that he barely remembered what Wyatt looked like without them. It somehow made him look younger.

". . . Then you're going to miss everything that's important," Wyatt finished with Lucy, their voices blending and sounding not like the adults they were, but like the teenagers they had been the last time Christopher remembered Wyatt being a real part of the family so many years ago.

From just over Wyatt's shoulders, the sinister voice Christopher had heard in the shadows said with what sounded like relieved delight, "Like me."

Christopher knew he could only handle one problem at once whenever Wyatt was involved, no matter how old his brother appeared to be. He had no idea who the owner of the voice could be, though, and didn't know who he should distrust more. Still, the dripping insinuation in the voice was enough to make him look away from his brother long enough that he lost sight of Wyatt. Unable to see anyone at all, Christopher whipped around to search them out again. Before he could see the face of the man that was damned near right on top of him, a pair of hands reached out and shoved into his chest, toppling him over into the floor. He yelped in annoyed pain as his elbow crashed into the suddenly earthy ground. He tried to look around and catch his bearings, but he had somehow missed the fog rolling in all around them, so thick that he could hardly see his own feet.

Taunting him from just above his head in a deceptively innocent drawl, the voice continued, "None of you saw me, not in your whole life. Your parents certainly didn't. Your brother didn't, not until it was too late."

Suddenly, Wyatt's face was right next to Christopher's, bright blue eyes opened emphatically wide. Again, he had lost age. Christopher wasn't sure, but Wyatt looked to be eight or nine now, but was still as strong as he would grow to be as an adult. He reached behind Christopher and pulled his little brother up by the collar of his shirt until he was standing up again. Wyatt dusted off the back of Christopher's shirt, which came off a mixture of dirt and blood. Wyatt didn't even seem to notice as he nonchalantly explained, "That's true, but even if I had, I couldn't have done anything to stop it. I know you think you can. I don't know if you can, but you're more than welcome to try. But you aren't going to get anything accomplished if you don't open your eyes. You're blind, Christopher, to a lot of things."

"Like me."

Wyatt tilted his head out of Christopher's way to reveal a man, as dark and sinister as his voice had suggested, grinning serenely at him as if he belonged there. After a quick wink in Christopher's direction, the man leaned in to young Wyatt's ear and whispered something only Wyatt could hear. Wyatt shook his head violently, careful not to take his eyes from where they were matched with Christopher's. The man whispered in his ear again, but this time Wyatt's face seemed to blank out. Triumphantly, he said in the same voice as the man in his ear, "Like us."

"Like that," said Lucy weakly, drawing Christopher's attention back to her. He couldn't see her, but he felt her hand trying to settle itself into his, turning him into her direction. When he found her, she was looking down to the middle of her stomach where the hilt of a sword was somehow embedded solidly as if her gut was built of stone. She looked at it curiously, without even the slightest whimper of pain or fear. "Huh. Guess I missed that one, too. See, Wyatt? This is what happens when you can't share your toys with the rest of us. You should have told us." To Christopher, she added, "This thing kind of hurts. If it's okay with you, I think I'm going to have to sit this one out. You two boys play nice after I'm gone, okay?"

"They can't," a new bodiless voice echoed over their heads, joining their conversation. Their heads all looked up to the starless sky as the voice continued, "Good and Evil were never meant to get along. We're sorry for you, kids, but the balance has to be maintained."

"Wyatt isn't evil," Christopher yelled defensively at the sky. Angrily he accused all of these voices that seemed to want to interfere with what was supposed to be a family discussion, "At least, he wasn't until all of you came along. Leave us alone! Leave my family alone!"

From just over five-year-old Wyatt's shoulder, the man started speaking, but the words came out of Wyatt's mouth. Both sneering and soothing, the still echoed voice said, "That's a convenient excuse for your family, Christopher, but that doesn't make it true. Your ears are as closed as your eyes. We warned you all, but you couldn't hear it. Wouldn't."

The still faceless voice boomed, "We won't warn you again."

Wyatt pulled away from the man at his shoulder, pacing slowly around his younger brother. An actual smile of happiness graced his childlike features as he nodded his chin in the direction their sister had taken off in. Wyatt closed his eyes and hummed along with her a tune that Christopher couldn't quite place. As she started putting words to the notes, Wyatt mused, "She has a great singing voice, don't you think? Sad. You really should have listened to it more often."

Suddenly the room flared in brightness. There was no sound, no jingle, but there were orbs circling all around them. Christopher searched frantically for his brother, reaching his hand into the brightness to find Wyatt, determined not to lose sight of him. The more his hand swatted at the orbs, the denser they became until they were all he could see. He listened for any sound to give him a clue where to look, but the voices of his siblings were growing fainter by the second. He barely caught on to his sister's singing as the last note faded into an agonized scream.

". . . _what makes you think you're the one who can live without tryin'? What makes you think you're the one who can live without dyin'? Every little thing is there to see . . ._ NO!"

Christopher opened his mouth to cry out to her, to beg her to tell him where she was, that he would find her if only she would tell him where she was. The scream caught in his lungs, though, as a fiery pain tore through his spine. He looked down to see the blade of Excalibur protruding sickly through him just below his ribcage. He struggled to find some air to warn her. Gently, a hand rested on either of his shoulders, pressing just hard enough to make it harder to find that air he so desperately needed. Evil chuckles sounded in each of his ears, the nauseating voices of his once again adult brother and the stranger at Wyatt's side. Together they whispered hotly into his ears.

"Made you look."

For the seventh night in a row, Christopher screamed himself awake, even though he had absolutely no idea as to why. He was quickly overcome with chills as he realized that he'd kicked his blankets off again. He would have leaned over the edge of the couch to retrieve them, but he was somehow too paralyzed to move. He knew he'd been dreaming, and he knew that it had ended badly, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was that could have scared him so horribly. His mind struggled to find any sliver left of the dream to tell him what was going on, but the harder he tried, the faster the details dissipated into the wasteland of Forgotten Dreams. Frustrated, Christopher whapped the side of his fist into the back of the sofa before he realized that he was not as alone as he would like to be.

The rustle of sheets from his parents' bed told Christopher that at least one of his parents was awake, and that it was his fault. He wasn't all that surprised when he heard his mother's voice in the darkness whispering to him, "Christopher? What's wrong?"

Trying to sound like he actually believed what he was saying, Christopher told her, "I'm fine, Mom. Go back to sleep."

The lamp on her bedside table switched on at the same time she called him a liar. She took one look at her son and flung her sheets aside, dropped her feet to the floor, and crossed the room fast as lightning. It was exactly what Christopher did not want her to do. Still, he obeyed and drew his knees up to his chest when she patted the end of his makeshift bed to make some room for her. He even went so far as to offer her his top blanket, but she quickly put it aside when she realized just how drenched it was with his terror.

"Okay, Mister," she urged. "Start talking."

"About what," he asked innocently, delaying the inevitable and starting a frantic search for any way out of the conversation, no matter how futile he knew the effort to be.

Tired of playing the same old avoidance games she had spent the last two years playing with the other Chris, she scowled angrily. "Christopher, I love you, I do. I know I've only really known _You _you for a week, but you still will never know how much I love you. That said, however comma pause, between your father, your brother, the other you, and now you, the men in my life have given me more than enough to be awake all night over. Your brother is too small to tell me what's wrong, and so is the you who is still sleeping. The other you isn't here, and your father seems to have sneaked out of the house again tonight. So, by default, you get to be the one to get my expert Mom advice since it was apparently your turn to wake me up. So either you start talking, or you will be the only one without coffee in the morning."

"How about I just sleep on the couch downstairs tonight instead?"

"Nice try," she shook her head. "But your grandfather is staying on the couch until he finds a house here. You're stuck up here, with me, and I'm not going to let you out of my sight until you tell me what's going on."

"And that doesn't bother you? 'Cause if you ask me, there's something kind of disturbing about sharing a bedroom with my parents. I mean, don't get me wrong, if my being here puts my parents in the same bed instead of him on this couch, great. I'm all for it. That still doesn't make it any less disturbing. I liked my memories of the two of you just fine the way they were."

Piper was in no way going to be held hostage by her boy's diversionary tactics. She knew better. She'd used bigger and better ones in her day. Holding on to her reserve, she tried to steer Christopher back on track. "Honey, what's wrong? Is it something from the future? Should we be looking for something tonight?"

With one last surge of effort, Christopher evaded her with an almost innocent, "Where's Dad?"

"I haven't a clue, but I'll call him if you think it would help you tell me what's going on and why you woke half the block screaming your lungs out."

"That _really_ isn't a good idea," Christopher protested, even though he wasn't entirely sure why he'd said that. Of all the people in the house, Leo had been the only one he'd really been able to talk to. Dad and Grandpa. It was too hard with the others. They were the only ones who seemed to really be open to hearing him, anyway. Everyone else had been trying too hard. He understood why. He did. It must have been really hard for them to lose this other version of him when they'd spent so much time with him. He could hardly imagine what it was like. But if their individual behaviors were any indication, well . . . It certainly explained a lot to him about his childhood with them, at least.

Still, he didn't remember Paige and Phoebe being this avoidy. Paige had hardly said ten words to him since his arrival, but they had all been happy, at least. She was maybe even a little _too_ happy in comparison with what his father had said about her behavior lately. But who was he to say, right? She had been doing her best to hold everyone together, it seemed. She was keeping herself psychotically busy, taking care of everything around the house — _Piper, don't touch that! You need your rest!_ — and running the club so efficiently it was unreal. He didn't think she'd managed to sit still for more than two seconds since he'd seen her the morning after his return. She was like a happiness machine, something his aunt had never been in his lifetime that he could remember. Phoebe, well, she had pretty much avoided him altogether once she'd disappeared up the stairs with Grams that night. She hadn't done a very good job at all of hiding the fact that she was staying out of his way as much as possible. When contact was unavoidable, she focused her attentions on his infant self and Wyatt. He could count the number of times she'd made eye contact with him on one hand. They weren't doing it intentionally; he knew that and in no way blamed them for it, but at the same time, constantly feeling like a dead man walking was starting to wear on his nerves a little bit.

At least Piper was trying in the other direction. She seemed to genuinely care about being his mother, even though he hadn't had one in quite a long time. Her efforts would be amusing if they weren't making him so sad. He didn't really know why it surprised him, though. She had been the world's greatest mother in his eyes all his life. Other kids, he knew, went through that thing when they wanted someone else's parents, anyone else's parents but their own, but Christopher never went through that one. He loved his parents exactly the way they were. Still, there was just something about sitting there in the middle of the night with nothing on but a pair of his father's flannel pants talking with his dead mother that was really kind of disturbing. As much as he wished that he could vocalize that, it probably wouldn't be the smartest thing he could say to her at this point. He could see she genuinely wanted to help. Telling her that it was seeming a little gross at the moment was only going to hurt her feelings.

He was lucky enough not to have to say anything at all, as it turned out. Piper's eyes suddenly widened in the awkward silence, sensing a drastic change in the way he was looking at her. She knew that look. She hated that look. She also understood it, which was an advantage that she had not foreseen and knew that her son wouldn't have either.

Sadly, she asked him, "I'm still dead, aren't I? At some point in your life, I've already died. Is that why you can't talk to me?"

Christopher's eyes snapped up suspiciously to meet his mother's. "How-how do you know that?"

"When you — the other you — were here before, he used to do the same thing, especially as we got closer to when he knew he was going to have to leave. Once we found out that he was my son, everything changed, for all of us. Everything had a whole new meaning, for us and for him. He stopped talking to me about anything other than demons and Wyatt, not that he was a chatterbox before. Your father was still Up There at the time, so your grandfather came to help out for a few days and talk to you for me. That's why he wasn't as surprised as he probably should have been when he saw you the night you came back; he's seen you before. The two of them spent a lot of time together talking. It was the first time I'd seen the other Chris feel comfortable about being around anyone in the family, so I let it be. I knew that Dad was going to get through to him, one way or another. Somehow, in the middle of their conversations, it slipped out that I hadn't been around in his life all that much because I had died. He wouldn't tell me how or when, although I think maybe your grandfather knows, but that's not the point. The point is, you're acting the same way he did, so it wasn't too hard to figure out what you could have been thinking. That is, you're acting the way he did until we agreed that the future wasn't completely set in stone. So I'll tell you the same thing I told him: save it. I'm here now. I'm still your mother. If there is something you need, or if you just need your mom to talk to, I'm her. I'm her, and I'm here. Got it?"

Letting his knees fall away from his chest, releasing the invisible guard he had around himself every time his mother had been there when he woke up screaming in the middle of the night, Christopher put his feet on the floor. He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, hands holding his head. He didn't get it. How could she be sitting there, talking so calmly about what was pretty much one of the top three most awful, horrible days of his life like it was the simplest thing in the world? There hadn't been a single minute in the last seven years that he hadn't wished for a way to go back and change that moment. If she had been just that much quicker, if he and Wyatt hadn't been distracted, if Wyatt had helped her instead of him, if, if, if . . .

Her pep talk obviously not doing the trick she wanted it to, Piper reached over and rubbed her fingers in circles around on Christopher's back, hoping to soothe the answer out of him. "Christopher, I mean it. Listen to me. I'm okay, and if what we do now to ensure Wyatt's safety does what it's supposed to, I'll still be okay thirty years down the road. So can you try to focus for me? We can only solve so many problems at once, and I think that whatever is still after your brother is the more pressing of the two. Besides, it's my death, and I'm not worried, so you aren't allowed to be either. So let's try that again, and even if you don't agree with me, put some effort into making it sound like you do. Knock it off. Got it?"

Actually a little amused with her, Christopher looked up at her and put on the best half smile he could manage. "Got it."

"Good," she said, slapping her thighs and standing up, declaring that part of their midnight adventure over. "Then put some clothes on and meet me downstairs. If we're going to be awake at this godawful hour, we're going to have ice cream to go with it. Anything less would be uncivilized."

"Yeah," Christopher chuckled fondly, hearing those two sentences for the first time in seven years. Incredibly, they sounded exactly the same as they always had. Some things really don't change, he supposed. Feeling a little better, he agreed, "That sounds great."

With a quick look toward the nursery door, Piper turned to walk away, wanting to check on the little kids before taking care of the big kid. "I'll be right down then."

Christopher watched her walk away, but caught her just before she reached the door. He knew that if he was going to say this, he had better do it now before the moment passed. "Hey, Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I _do_ know you're trying. I'm . . . I'm glad you're trying."

Not wanting to spoil the moment, Piper simply grinned back at him until she disappeared around the doorway.

He wasn't sure why, but Christopher was actually grateful that she didn't make a big deal about him saying that to her. He'd never really been much for words, not like his cousins and Wyatt. Half the time he couldn't get them to shut up, but he was much happier staying in the background. There was just something about everyone trying to talk over everyone else that had always turned him off. Not that he wasn't a part of the family. He was always right there in the middle of it. He just didn't like to talk about it. Words usually got him in trouble anyway.

Still, there was a part of him that would appreciate some words right now. He didn't really know who from, but words might be nice. In particular, it would be nice to have some words directed at him instead of around him. The last week had passed pretty much without incident, which was a relief to him and the others. He knew that. It wasn't like he was looking for trouble. Things were actually quiet enough that, in the backs of their minds, each and every one of them was wondering what was taking the usual demons, ghosts, and random evilness that goes bump in the night so long to pounce on them, but none of them had dared to say it out loud. There was no reason to invite the bad guys to stop over, right? They already did it enough. So instead, everyone remained silent about all things supernatural and hoped for the best. They had plenty going on under their roof as it was.

Christopher knew he was part of those goings-on, more than he wanted to be. He knew they had to be talking about him. There was no way that they weren't. He could walk into a room and people would suddenly look up at him all smiles, doing a horrible job of hiding the fact that they had been talking about him. Phoebe didn't even have to be talking to anyone to look at him that way. She would be staring off into the distance as if she was seeing something that none of the rest of them could see when she would suddenly snap back into the moment, doing a horrid job of pretending that she had heard anything that had been happening around her. He understood why they would be talking about him. From everything Leo had told him in the last few days, he knew he must be a little bit confusing to them just by being there. Still, he wished they could try to act normally around him. The silences were starting to get really old really fast.

Then again, a lot of things were getting old. The sisters weren't the only ones having strange reactions to his presence. Even after a week, Wyatt still hadn't been able to be in a room with Christopher, with or without his little protective bubble. He had always known that his brother had been powerful, even as a child, but he'd had no idea that Wyatt could do some of the things that he could already. Christopher was actually a little grateful that his brother was so small, though, and didn't have the power to orb him any further than the city limits. Finding himself out in the middle of Angel Island was quite enough. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out that Wyatt was constantly saying that his little brother wasn't his little brother every time he said, ' _'Ot 'ris_ '. No matter how many times they tried to convince him otherwise, Wyatt was so sure that Christopher wasn't who he was that it had become a habit for him to actually ask if his brother was in the room before he'd enter one.

As the second oldest of all of the Halliwell children, Christopher had spent many a night helping the mothers getting their brood into bed at night or just taking care of them in general. He wasn't only Lucy's big brother; he was big brother to all, save Wyatt. So when he caught himself thinking about Wyatt and actually looking in on the nursery on the way downstairs to meet his mother, he didn't really think anything of it. It wasn't until he looked into the crib and saw his infant self there that he realized who it was that he was really looking in on. As quickly as he could, he backed out the nursery, hoping that Wyatt hadn't stirred and noticed the Not-Chris in the room with him. He really didn't want to end up in the middle of the bay for no reason other than that he was doing his job. He was having a hard enough night.

Christopher grabbed one of his father's corduroy shirts out of the closet that semi-matched the flannel pants on the way out of his parents' bedroom, actually tiptoeing his way out, just in case. On his way down the hall, he stopped for a second to listen at Phoebe's door to make sure she was home safely. Again, it was habit. Especially once Wyatt was out of the house and Grandpa was sick, he had made it a habit to check everyone's doors to make sure that everyone had made it safely through the day and were in their rooms for the night. It was his responsibility. He had promised his mother and aunts that they would all make it home at night, and he did his best to make sure he kept that promise. Whatever Phoebe was feeling these days about him and everything else, he could at least relax a little bit knowing that she, too, was at home, safe for the night.

At the bottom of the stairs, Christopher stopped again for a second, listening to his grandfather's snore from the sofa in the living room. Until his arrival here in this time, he had only been without it for two nights, but he had never known how much he was going to miss that sound until it was gone. There had been safety in it ,and that safety had been yanked out from under him. As responsible as he was for everyone under the Halliwell roof, his grandfather had been the one place that he could go to whenever the responsibility felt like too much. They used to sit up and talk for hours, under good circumstances and bad. They would sit up and watch _The Wizard of OZ_ like it was the first time they'd ever seen it, laughing at the witch and how she had been so much more frightening to both of them than any demon they'd run into. They'd talk about school and the club and all of the things that happened in their days. Grandpa was the one person who let Christopher be a kid all the time with him. There was no responsibility there, only love.

Guiltily, he wished he was on his way to talk to his grandfather rather than his mother. Somehow, he was willing to bet that that conversation would go a lot better than the one he was about to have was going to. But if wishes were fishes . . . That conversation would have to wait for another time.

Resigning himself to the conversation ahead, Christopher trekked the rest of the way down the hall, reminding himself the entire way that it really wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it was. She was his mother, after all. She was trying. She really was. He had to give her that chance. As much as he had missed her for those seven years, she was here now. It wasn't her fault that she hadn't been around for him before. She was trying her best so he needed to as well.

Taking one last stabilizing breath, he leaned against the doorjamb and yawned a grin at her. "Hey. Sorry it took so long. I couldn't find a shirt that I wasn't drowning in."

Piper looked up from the plate of carrot and celery sticks, a mixture of surprise, relief, and apology lighting her eyes. "I was beginning to think you'd ditched me."

Sheepishly, Christopher shrugged and dug his fists into the pockets of his father's pants, not that it took much seeing as how they were about two sizes too big. It took him a second to collect his thoughts before he admitted, "I thought about it."

"But you didn't," Piper asked, appreciating the honesty.

"No."

Mother and Son watched one another for a moment, letting his answers hang over the room. Neither one of them really knew what to make of them. Piper didn't say anything at all. She waited for him to steer the conversation, knowing that the look on his face meant that his mind was working a little overtime trying to figure out what to say. She was right. Until coming to the past, Christopher had never lied to his mother. She had always beaten it into his head that their relationship was too important to her to be tainted with lies and half-truths. He could tell her anything as long as he told her the truth. Until learning about the other him, he hadn't really understood the reason behind her fervor for their bond. When his mother finally filled the silence because it looked like he wasn't going to, he never knew he could be so grateful for having told the truth. The look on her face was more than enough.

"Thank you for at least being honest."

Christopher slowly left his perch in the doorway and crossed the distance between them, casually leaning his elbows on the island counter. He didn't look at her, but he lazily played with the vegetables, lifting and dropping them onto the plate.

"Sorry all I have is veggies," Piper said, sensing his distaste (or distraction, one of the two). "One of the others must have killed off the ice cream and not said anything."

Softly, Christopher ignored her apology and asked, "He lied to you guys a lot, huh?"

"Oh, I don't think he wanted to," she said thoughtfully. "The thing you have to understand about Chris is that he had it differently than you do. Not necessarily easier or harder, whichever way you look at it, but definitely different. When he first came here to us, he had . . . He had us hunting demons day and night. We just thought he was some sort of workaholic and was trying to impress the Elders so that he could stay here. Threats that . . . Threats that you have never had to know are gone because they had plagued his life, and he knew to destroy them in the past before they could get to you. You haven't had to see so many demons because he did. He thought that, in order to do that, he would have to lie because he didn't think that we would be willing to help him if he told us the truth about who he was. The more I think about it, I know somehow that he was right; we never would have believed him if he had just shown up like he did and told me he was my son from the future. But it doesn't really matter. He made his choice, and for ten months he stuck with it. I don't know if it was easier for him then, when he didn't have to admit to caring about anything in the family at all, or if it was harder after we knew who he was and truly cared about him. But I _do_ know that he did all of the things he did because he thought they were for the right reasons, and that includes the secrecy and lying. He was doing what he thought was right."

Christopher let her admission drift off as she seemed to come to a realization even as she spoke. He waited a beat before sitting and asking her, as if he were asking for her permission, "And if I decide to lie to you?"

"I would hope you wouldn't, but I'd at least try to understand if you do. I'm sure this isn't easy for you. It isn't easy for any of us." Piper seemed to stop to think about that for a moment, as if realizing for the first time that she really wasn't okay with all of this. And if she wasn't okay, she couldn't expect anyone else to be okay with it either. "So speaking of truths and half-truths, how _are_ you? We haven't really talked much about _you_ since you got here. We've talked a lot about Wyatt and the other Chris, but you've been awfully good at dodging the question whenever it's directed at you. I tried not to ask about what was going on and all, but . . . A lot's happened to you lately. Can you tell me why you were all soaked in blood when you came through the portal last week? Your dad, I know he knows, but he won't tell me. He says that's up to you."

Christopher gulped hard. He definitely did not want to go there. He couldn't. It was bad enough he had to go there in his dreams at night. To do it in the waking hours would make it even more real. He'd had plenty of practice over the years learning to put things into a mental box and take them out only when he needed to. This was one of those times when the lid needed to stay taped on tight with heavy duty packing tape. So he steeled himself, waiting for her to find another question to ask. If it was about Wyatt or what their next move should be, great. But everything else was positively out of limits right now.

Seeing her son's features harden, Piper knew he was either going to evade the question or lie to her altogether, so she offered him an alternative. "Okay, for now. Moving on."

"Thanks."

"Can I ask you one thing?"

Hoping that she was going to change the direction of the conversation to something a little more positive and two a.m. friendly, Christopher said cheerfully through a yawn, "Shoot."

"I don't want to pry, and you can certainly tell me if I am, but I was wondering and wanted to at least offer to you the opportunity to tell me the answer. I know you've been having a hard time sleeping since you got here and . . . Have your dreams been about Wyatt? Is he why you woke up screaming?"

"Mom — "

"Before you start denying that you were screaming about anything at all, let me get this out," she interrupted. "Look, when the other you was here, he tried too hard to protect us from the truth, and it only ended up causing us problems in the end. I think things would have been a lot different between us if he had started out with at least that part of the truth. He told us that he was here to save Wyatt from a demon, which I suppose, from his perspective, was true. But he had been here for eight months before he even told us that Wyatt himself was the threat from his future, and I still don't know what that means. The most he ever told me was that Wyatt had killed and that I didn't want to know anything else. I know that Wyatt was so desperate that he sent his brother's own fiancée back here to kill him. That's all I know, though. You were going to come back here to try to fix things the same way that he did, but I don't know what that means."

Dark and evasive, Christopher told her, "You don't want to know what that means."

"I need to know."

Trying to remember that he was, after all, talking to his mother (his grandfather would be rolling in his grave if he said anything too harsh to her), with as much understanding as he could muster, Christopher said, "No, what you need to know is that it wasn't your fault that he turned out the way he did. Knowing what he turned out to be in my time, if we are successful, isn't going to matter anymore. Why do you need to know something that isn't going to be?"

With a motherly, stern pinch of her eyes, Piper corrected him. "I need to know because it has woken my child up screaming in the middle of the night every night since he got here. It used to wake him at night, too. Between the two of you, the neighbors are going to think we've got some poor shmuck tied up in the basement to torture him for fun. Please, tell me what you were dreaming. You have to let us help you, and I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

"It wasn't about Wyatt," he lied, feeling guilty even as he was doing it, even if it was for his mother's own good. He felt even more guilty for what he was about to say, knowing that it was barely even remotely true. It needed to be done, though, if he was going to get through this conversation, and he knew it. Attempting to keep the sadness out of his voice, he said quickly, "It was about someone else, someone who doesn't matter. She isn't a part of this anymore, and I can't worry about it. She's a friend who I haven't thought about in a really long time who used to be important to me, but she's gone, and there isn't anything I can do about it. There wasn't then, and there isn't now."

"That's all it was?"

"That's all it was."

Offering a sympathetic grin, Piper reached her hand out to her son and squeezed his hand before pulling it back again, knowing that it probably wasn't a good idea to get too familiar with him yet. "Well, I'm sorry for whatever happened to her to make you scream like that. It sounded awful."

"She was a good friend, one of the best, and I miss her. But that's for me to deal with, and I will," he said with sad determination. After all, that part of this all was true, wasn't it? He was going to have to figure out how to deal without Lucy one of these days, just as he had learned to deal without Sam or Jack or anyone else in the family. Somehow reassured that he'd found a way to shut himself off before and would therefore ultimately be able to do it again, he said confidently, "I don't want you to worry about it, okay?"

"Only if I get to ask one more question." She waited for Christopher's nod to continue. When she got it, she asked nervously, "Her name wasn't '_Bianca_', was it?"

Suspiciously, Christopher eyed his mother. "How do you know about her? Did Dad tell you?"

"No, he didn't say anything about her at all. It was just a hunch. Let's just say that you seem to run in the same circles as you did before," she said a little unhappily. It had been a wild guess, one that she had hoped he wouldn't confirm. She didn't like that that woman was still a part of his life at all, especially if he was having dreams about her. "You knew her, or rather, he knew her. She is the fiancee that I mentioned, the one who tried to kill him. If you could have seen what she did, it — Well, Bianca isn't all that high on my list of people that I would have liked to see be in your life. That's all. If I had my way, you wouldn't be doing anything with her ever."

"I don't do anything with Bianca," he defended himself a little too quickly. "I mean, she comes over to bring messages or orders from Wyatt, we flirt, we threaten to kill each other, and she leaves. It's all games, nothing more."

Piper blew out a small breath of relief. "Good."

"Listen, I know it's tempting to want to know what Wyatt's like and what has happened between us. I get that, Mom, I do. I just don't think it would do you any good to know those things. It won't help Wyatt either. I don't want you to look at him differently for things that he hasn't even done yet. That isn't fair to him. Dad showed me that letter that the other me left before he died. He was right to ask you not to tell us about him or what happened in his lifetime. It only would have made things harder for us. We had to figure this stuff out on our own." Christopher looked hard at his mother, willing his next words to sink in without him needing to go too far into it. "So do you. You don't have to like it, but you have to deal with it."

A chuckle escaped Piper's throat before she could catch it, causing Christopher to raise his eyebrows at her as she quickly clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Something funny," asked Christopher.

Not quite sure how to word it, Piper spoke slowly, forming her sentence as she moved along. "The two of you . . . were . . . are . . . very talented."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you both have managed to spend your time here telling me a lot of things without telling me a damned thing at all. You remind me of Phoebe when she was your age. She could dance with the best of 'em, too. Of course, with her, it was mostly because she had either slept with one of Prue's boyfriends or borrowed our clothes and ruined them."

Christopher looked down at his hands, trying to hide the grin on his face. He'd heard that line before and wasn't in the least bit offended like she had seemed to think he would be. He knew he was doing his job well then. He hadn't revealed as much about his life as he'd thought he had to everyone but his father. Considering the circumstances, he had to be happy with what he could get. Still, he asked softly, "Is that a problem? Or is that considered part of the lying thing?"

"Let's just say that you've been kind enough not to use the words '_Future Consequences_' yet, so you get points for that."

Laughing a little, Christopher admitted, "Yeah, Dad kind of warned me off of that when I first got here. I figured it wouldn't go over well if I just said that."

"It'll do, for now, but don't let it become a habit, okay?"

"Then don't ask any questions I can't answer and we'll be good."

"I'll see what I can do." Now that she had her son in a better mood, she thought she'd try to at least breach one more topic while she had him alone, something she'd been meaning to say to both of the Chrises for a long time. "Christopher? By the way? In case I forget to tell you later . . . thank you."

"What for?"

"Coming here," Piper smiled, thinking on the last time she'd said nearly the same thing. She hadn't had the time to say all of the things to the other Chris that she had wanted to, so in some ways, this was her chance to say it to both of them. She looked at him hard, hoping to drill the sentiment into his already-blushing head with her eyes. "Thank you for taking the chance to come here. I know I can't imagine what a chance it was. You risked your life to save your brother. It's pretty incredible, especially since you've technically done it not once but twice. Most people wouldn't have even done it the first time around. I guess . . . I guess I just needed you to know that I'm proud of you and what you've done."

"Don't be."

"Why not?"

Christopher sighed, trying to give himself time to find the right words without offending his mother. He knew she meant well, but it was really becoming a little too much from her and everyone else. Evenly, he informed her, "I'm not some hero, Mom. I'm not. God, I hate that word. It's so overused that it doesn't mean anything anymore. A kid pulls a cat down from a tree, he's a hero. A ten-year-old doesn't get into a car driven by a stranger with candy, she's a hero. I'm not a hero. I'm just looking out for my brother, the way we were all taught to look out for each other. I'm looking out for him the way you would for Phoebe or Paige or Prue when she was alive. You guys do stuff for each other every day, every time another demon shows up on our front doorstep. You don't go around slapping each other on the back, calling each other heroes. Not once in my lifetime have you used that word to describe your sisters whenever they save you from an energy ball or anything. It isn't 'thank you' stuff; it isn't hero stuff. It's family stuff. I don't understand why this has to be anything special. Wyatt needs help. That's all."

"That's not really what I meant. It's just . . . I know that the two of you led very different lives. I mean, we wouldn't be reminding ourselves whenever we talk to you that you're _Christopher_ and not just Chris if you two weren't different. You have to understand, though, really, in so many ways you're still the same. Either way, your brother has a lot to do with it. The way he treated you and everyone around you, most people wouldn't have taken the time to care about someone who acts that way, but you did."

"I'm not a victim, either, if that's what you mean," Christopher interrupted. He didn't like where any of this was going. It was one extreme or the other. Quite frankly, he wasn't in the mood for it either. He did what he was supposed to. End of story. Why couldn't any of them see that? "Mom, I really need you to hear me. This isn't anything special, okay? I'm doing my job. He's my brother, my responsibility. That's it. It doesn't need a label. It just is. Please? Just stop."

Piper tried not to appear too hurt, but she knew he could probably see her biting the inside of her cheek to steady herself anyway. She was a little surprised at his reaction, but it was strong enough that he'd obviously been thinking about it for a while. She didn't really know what to say, but she started anyway, hoping to calm him down a little. "I'm sorry. Really. I didn't know you felt so strongly about it. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I know that no one else has meant to make you feel awkward either, if they have. We're all a little overwhelmed is all. This isn't like you jumped in front of a fireball for your brother. You jumped through time. That isn't exactly an easy thing to do."

"Mom, I'm serious. Stop it right now."

"Christopher, please, let me explain."

Beyond uncomfortable, Christopher pushed his stool away from the counter and hopped off. Darkly, he dropped the subject and said, "It's late. You need to get some sleep. The boys will be up before you know it."

With that, Christopher orbed out of the kitchen for destinations unknown.

"Christopher? Chris, come back," Piper groaned, literally kicking herself in the shin. She knew she should have known better than to try to talk to the kid. Hadn't she had plenty of experience in the field to know that she was only going to complicate things that way? Of course she had. But there was something that . . . Why did she have to push? Why couldn't she have simply kept the conversation light, talking about all those things she had told her grandmother she wanted to know now that she didn't have the opportunity to ask. As with her other Chris, she didn't even know his favorite color. She couldn't let him leave them again without knowing those kinds of things. If she did, she'd never forgive herself. She couldn't ask those questions if she didn't get her son back. Irritated with both herself and her incredibly stubborn son, she hollered, "Chris! Damn it, Christopher! Come home! I'm sorry. Just come home."

The only response she received was the ice maker in the refrigerator shuddering a few newly-formed ice cubes into the waiting tray. Piper thought that wasn't exactly without its sense of irony.

At the end of her rope, Piper buried her head in her hands, hoping that the pressure on her head would make it feel a little better. When she yelled for her husband, it came out muffled and almost indiscernible so that she had to lift her head and call him again. "Leo! Wherever you are, I need you to get home. NOW."

Seconds later, orbs circled around in front of her, nearly blinding her. Urgently, Leo asked, "What's wrong?"

"Christopher stormed out," Piper said, not caring that she was exaggerating a smidge. "He had a nightmare, and I was trying to at least relax him so that he could sleep the rest of the night, but I must have said the wrong thing because he orbed out before I could stop him."

Leo narrowed his eyes, thinking more of his child than of his wife's apparently hurt feelings at the moment. "A nightmare? About what?"

"The same nightmare he's had every night since he got here," she snapped. Her anger suddenly redirected, Piper instead focused on Leo, crossing her arms angrily. "But you wouldn't know that since it's apparently impossible for you to stay in our bed for the night."

"His nightmare, Piper," Leo urged, ignoring her accusatory tone. That was an argument that could be saved for another time. "Did he say anything about it at all?"

Unable to control the urge to be angry, she went straight for Leo's heart. "He asked for you. Where were you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Where in the hell have you been, Leo? He has been screaming himself awake all week. Every time he does, I wake up to find out you've left us alone again. Where are you going at night? What is so much more important than to be here and just share a bed with your wife?"

Defensively, Leo mimicked her stance, thrusting his arms over his chest as well, and glared back at her. "What's so important? Protecting my wife is what's so important so that one day I will be able to sleep a full night in her bed and not lie awake all night wondering if there is something else I should be doing to protect my family. Protecting my children is what's so important so that I can sleep at night and not wonder if the few minutes a day that I'm not sensing them is that window of opportunity that Evil needs to take them and try to murder them. I made the mistake of trusting someone outside the family to help me do my job and it cost me my son and nearly my wife, her sister, and both of my sons. Do you have _any_ idea . . . "

When he trailed off and turned away from her in frustration, Piper relaxed a little. She shook her head to get the hair out of her eyes and let her arms drop back to her sides. Her voice dropped back down to a normal tone as she asked, "Do I have any idea what?"

"It doesn't matter."

Piper reached her hand out to touch his shoulder but only ended up pulling it back at the last second, unable to give herself that moment of intimacy when she'd snapped at him for no real reason other than that she had to be mad at someone. She put her hand into her other, looking at them as if she was afraid of what they might try to do next. Softly, she suggested, "Leo, talk to me. You used to tell me everything. Please, talk to me."

Leo walked around to the other side of the island, putting a little extra distance between them. He needed to. As much as he had wished for the opportunity to talk to his wife again, they were so far from being able to do that right now that it just seemed like it would be better if they didn't talk at all. She wasn't going to understand. How could she? She wasn't there. She didn't know. Unable to actually tell her that, knowing that it would only hurt her to hear that _— and Mother always said that if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all_ — Leo sighed and leaned back against the refrigerator, arms remaining closely pinned to his chest in frustration.

When Leo didn't say anything to her, Piper's heart sank. She honestly didn't know what to do. She couldn't remember a time when they had been unable to trust each other, even when they were as separated as they had been a year ago. They had still always been able to talk to one another. How could they have let themselves slip so far from each other? It didn't seem right. "When did we give up and let the Elders win? All those years, we fought so hard to prove to Them that They didn't know anything about love and that we could make it through anything. When did that change? When did we let Them win?"

Surprised at the question, Leo started and leaned forward, balancing his elbow on the island. He reached forward with one hand to take hers into his, but pulled back, not knowing she had just done the same thing. He met her eyes for the first time since she'd turned on him at his arrival, hoping that his eyes would make her hear him. "I didn't give up, Piper. I'm still trying to find my way home. You just have to wait a little longer."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said hopefully. "So what's stopping you?"

"It needs to be safe," said Leo. "_I_ need to be safe."

"We're never going to be completely safe," she said, hating the brutal honesty of it. "As much as I want that in our lives, part of me knows that it just isn't possible, not while we are who we are."

"But I can make us as safe as possible," he countered.

"You can't do that from home?"

The dark anger returning to his normally peaceful features, Leo nearly growled. "Not when I can't even trust the people who are supposed to be on our side to not turn on us. Piper, the man I trusted with my family murdered my son in our own home. I brought him into this. If it weren't for me, if I hadn't let him trick me into joining Them full time . . . "

"That's a lot of '_If_'s to deal with, Leo," she soothed. "And that's just part of who we are right now. It isn't all going to go away overnight. We can't just put our lives on hold because of it. We can't put our children's lives on hold. I'd love to be able to lock the boys away in a protective little box until we could be sure that they were going to be perfectly safe and live demon-free lives, but you and I both know that if we did that, as soon as we let them out, they'd be hit by a bus crossing the street. Of course, that's if we lived long enough to let them out. We have to protect them the best we can and still be here when they need us."

"But I can at least make it a little safer by vanquishing demons like Barbas who just keep coming back and coming back and destroying our lives every time they do."

Pointedly, she asked, "How many of them will be enough? Huh? Is it going to be enough to get rid of Barbas for what he did? Is five going to be enough, or ten? Twenty? How many demons will be enough before you decide that it's okay to come home and be a father to your children and be my husband again?"

"That's not fair," said Leo. "You have given me the exact same argument plenty of times, just last week, in fact, before your little talk with Grams. Before Wyatt was born, you used to say the same thing about why we couldn't have children and raise them in this house when demons were always around. Considering you didn't believe it then, you can't turn it around to use on me now."

"It might not be fair, but you know it's right."

"Can we drop this for now and just talk about what it was that you called me for in the first place?"

"Only if you promise to talk to me about it again when this is over."

Reluctantly (because he knew damned well that Piper would in fact bring this up again at a later date and time), Leo silently agreed. Without actually acknowledging the request, he asked, "So Christopher had a nightmare?"

Knowing that was the best she was going to get out of her husband for now, Piper let the subject drop. She did, after all, have something a little more pressing to deal with at the moment, right? She wasn't going to fix her marital problems in one night, but Christopher's problems might be solved a little more easily. Nodding, she told him, "It was bad. He might as well have woken the entire neighborhood. It's been that way all week. I let them slide until now, thinking that he would get through them on his own, but I just couldn't do it anymore tonight. He looked really scared, Leo."

"Did he tell you what it was about? Was it Wyatt?"

"That's what I thought, too, but he said it wasn't. All he said was that it was about a girl, and that it didn't matter anymore, that there wasn't anything he could do about it."

It didn't take him long to figure out who it was that Christopher had dreamed about. Leo himself had been dreaming of her every night as well. The little bit that he'd been able to sleep lately had been tortured at best with dreams of her and what they had left her to. He understood Christopher's fear more than he ever wished that he did. Still, there wasn't anything he could do, not now, regardless of Wyatt's threats. To answer Piper's question, sadly, he shrugged. "There isn't, not really."

"You know who he's talking about?"

"I do," he said. "And he's right. As much as I keep trying to tell him that it will be okay, we both know it won't be. The only thing that's going to help her now is to fix the problems back here and hope that we do it right this time."

"So Wyatt _is_ involved," said Piper, more as a statement than a question. "He lied to me."

"Let's just say that, knowing what I know now, I understand the impulse the boys have had to lie to us. I wish to God that I didn't know the things about our future that I know. If I were Christopher, I would lie, too." Seeing that Piper was about to ask him just exactly what made him think that, Leo jumped in and asked, "What else? What else happened that made him leave you? You said he stormed out."

"I'm not sure. We talked about the other Chris for a while, what I told you about the dream, and then . . . I don't know. I told him '_Thank You_' for coming back here to help us with Wyatt. I didn't tell the other Chris that enough when he was here, and I'm angry with myself for not saying it. I wanted to make sure that I said it this time. He didn't like it. He started going on about how he isn't a hero or a victim and that he didn't want us thanking him because it was his responsibility to do this in the first place. He couldn't get out of here fast enough."

Leo looked at her, so worried, and wanted immediately to go chasing after his boy, just to make her feel better, but he knew better. The Chris he had known — actually, both of the Chrises — liked to handle his emotions on his own. He knew that. It was a guy thing. Leo knew he'd become too used to having to always talk things out after seven years of being in a household surrounded by only women. He sometimes forgot how they could pressure a guy into talking when he didn't want to. So instead of giving in and hunting Christopher down like he knew she wanted, he closed his eyes and sensed for his child. It didn't take very long to figure out where Christopher was. He could feel his son's frustration, but he was okay. No imminent danger. It probably wouldn't make much of a difference to Piper, but he had to give in to it anyway. This was about Christopher's feelings, not hers. "He's fine, honey. I think, this time, you need to let him sort through this himself. Give him time to cool off. He'll come home. He will."

"I made him really mad."

"And he'll get over it."

"So I just wait," she asked grudgingly.

"I think that's the best idea, yeah."

Piper narrowed her eyes on her sort-of husband and grumped, "I really hate those pacifist tendencies of yours sometimes, you know?"

"I know."

The couple grinned at one another shyly, the way they would have done when they had first been dating after Leo had revealed his true identity to the sisters. They had even started to cross the room toward one another around the island when they were interrupted by a pair of heavy shoes clomping on the hardwood floor toward them. Before they reached one another, Phoebe's impatient voice interrupted them, not even checking to see if they were in the middle of anything or not.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," the younger sister said without any hint of remorse. "But I'm interrupting. I need you, or rather, Paige needs us."

"What's wrong?"

"I just talked to Rex at the club," Phoebe explained. "He said she's kind of freaking out, in a weirdly happy way."

Piper looked at her sister, confused. "Define '_freaking out_'."

Phoebe turned right to Leo this time, knowing that he would understand what she meant more than Piper would. "Like, really happy, like alternate universe happy. She could get shot right now and not care kind of happy."

"But how," asked Leo, his mind stinging with the thought that they were in danger of returning to that awful reality. "There hasn't been any kind of shift that we know about. Even if there was, she would be the only one affected by it. Everyone else is acting completely normal. She hasn't been all that — she hasn't been that same psychotically happy that we saw that day. She's been a little excitable lately, sure, but not like that."

"Not like that that we've been around to notice," corrected Phoebe. "Have any of us spent more than two minutes with her in the last few days?" When both Leo and Piper looked at one another and then shrugged their guilt, she looked down at her hands in her own guilt as well. "Neither have I. I don't think any of us has. I've noticed that she'd been a little chipper, but it seemed normal. She kept talking about celebrating the baby and putting together the shower for him, just like she did with Wyatt before he was born. I just thought maybe she was going a little overboard like she did before. But after Rex called . . . "

Concerned and not at all fond of the memory of what the girls had all been like that day, Leo asked, "Is it really that bad?"

"I didn't think it could be, but after I got off the phone with him, I checked her room." As Phoebe handed a folded piece of paper to her sister and brother-in-law, she inwardly cringed. "I found this."

Scribbled in Paige's girl-like loopy script, a spell told them all they needed to know.

_We have a new baby to celebrate,  
__So hurry mind, don't hesitate.  
__Don't let my calls be in vain,  
__Help me, Spirits, move past my pain._

"This is not good," Piper half groaned, half barked. Baby Sister was in so much trouble once they saved her ass on this one, it wasn't even funny. "How could she do this? She knows that messing with spells for our emotions never turns out well."

"I don't think she meant it to be that way," Phoebe apologized for her little sister. "We . . . I was talking to her last week, the day that Christopher came back. There was just something about the way she was talking. It was like she wanted to be strong for the rest of us so that we could grieve for him without having to worry about things getting missed in the meantime. I think she did it for us, not for her. At least, that's how it sounded to me."

"So what do we do," asked Piper. "I mean, we'll write one in case, but I'm guessing there isn't a counter to that spell."

Back in Whitelighter mode, Leo sighed and said simply, "We have to make her deal with the specific cause of her pain that she intended to move beyond."

"Yeah, that's great," Phoebe griped. "That would work if we knew what that specific thing was. It's not like we haven't all had a lot to deal with lately. We have a fairly wide selection to choose from."

Sadly, Leo admitted, "I'm pretty sure I know."

Piper slapped her hands together, ready to get on with business. She was tired of this family falling apart, and it was about damned time that they started putting it back together. "Well, then, let's get to it. Phoebe, go wake Dad and tell him we're going to be gone for a while so that he can listen for the kids if they wake up. As soon as Leo finds Paige, we are out of here. We have a sister to save."

Silently, she added, _And a son and another son and a husband and a marriage and, and, and . . . _

**II.**

The office at P3 had become a half-way decent sanctuary for Paige in the last week since Chris's return. It wasn't exactly quiet at night, but the noise was a pleasant distraction. She could sing along with the bands, and when she didn't know the songs, she could make up the words as she went along. It wasn't like it mattered if the words were right. No one was there to hear them. That was the whole point.

Things at home were so complicated. Another future Chris — sorry, _Christopher_ — was there and it had everyone in a total panic. She could see that. From the time Christopher was born until his adult counterpart had shown up, things had been a lot more simple. They had had time to watch Christopher and mourn Chris and all of the things that were supposed to be happening. She, of course, had been the only one all-out celebrating, but that was so that the rest of them could mourn until they were ready to join the celebratey party. She had seen to that. But now, it was too far away. Celebrating was too far away. Wyatt was evil again, not saved like they had thought. Of course, she understood that saving Wyatt had to be Priority One. Everything depended on it. It did, however and in all honesty, make things complicated.

So now she was celebrating alone again. She had hoped that Victor's arrival was going to induce everyone else to celebration with her. Instead, the fog of grief that had been slowly lifting sank back down again, affecting everyone but her. She didn't need to do that right now. Chris, Baby Christopher, still needed celebrating. If she had to do it alone, that was okay. At least he was getting what he deserved in her. Hence, sanctuary.

Or at least, it would be a sanctuary if people would quit barging into the office like they owned the joint.

"Sorry to interrupt," Rex smiled as he poked his head around the door.

"It's okay," Paige chirped, not really sure why she was in a good mood considering how she felt in her head. Not that it mattered. All that mattered at the moment was celebrating the new baby. Silly interruptions weren't all that important on a larger scale of things. Happy that she could convince herself of that, she went on and waved the bartender into the room. "C'mon in."

Permission granted, Rex slipped around the door, leading with a cardboard box in front of him. Two quick steps had him standing in front of her, placing the box on the desk with gentle care. He shrugged at her, not sure if the box needed explaining or not. When she looked quizzically back at him, he gestured at it then hooked his thumb back toward the noise of the bar. "Ray said it arrived last week for your friend Chris? It's been under the bar all week, but the new guy keeps bumping into it. It fell to the floor, but it sounds intact. Since it was labeled '_Glass_', we didn't want to take any chances on him dropping it a second time."

Paige rolled her eyes but asked in a June Cleaver voice, "How is he handling the rest of the glass? You know, the stuff he has to serve to the customers? Or do we have to worry about being sued because people are getting extra toy surprises in their drinks tonight?"

Rex tried to hide the strange, concerned look he knew was going to crawl onto his face by talking before he even knew what he was going to say. "We're k-keeping him busy and away from the glass as much as possible. We're going to bring him in for a little extra training tomorrow afternoon, I think."

"Sounds peachy."

Unable to hide his concern (and the concern they had all had for her in the last week), Rex cocked his head to the side and asked, "Paige? Are you okay?"

"Right as rain," she buzzed. "Although I've never understood that silly expression. I guess the rain is right or things wouldn't grow. So I guess that means that everything is as it should be for me if I'm going to use that expression. So right as rain it is. Rain-like, even." Without seeming to even see Rex anymore, she started singing happily to herself. "_Daddy, what if the grass stopped growin'? What would happen then? Well, if the grass stopped growin', you would probably cry, and the ground would be watered by the tears from your eyes._"

"Uh, Paige?"

The woman giggled at him and once again waved him off. "Sorry, random thought., but not that random if you think about it, what with the rain and the grass and just the absolute cuteness of the song. Am I right? I think I'm right. It's very cute. I think — yeah. I need to remember to sing that one to Christopher. We have a new baby in the house, you know. He's just cute as a button. He needs to be celebrated. I really should write all of this down." She started shuffling through the stuff on the desk, but when she didn't see what she wanted, she pulled the center drawer out of the desk and dumped the contents of it onto the desktop. She tossed several pens over her shoulder because they weren't the ones she wanted. A few Post-It pads flew over her other shoulder because they weren't bright enough. Finally, she found the yellow ones that she wanted and started scribbling on them, only to look up at Rex with a cheerful distraction. "What was I writing down again?"

Now incredibly concerned, Rex reached over and took the pen out of Paige's limp hand. He grinned at her, no harm intended, and said soothingly, "You were going to let me write while you told me how I could find Chris for you so that he could come pick this box up. Then you were going to let me call Piper to have someone come pick you up."

"I can't go home, silly goose," she chided him. "There's a ghost in the house."

"Okay," he said lightly, more convinced than ever that something was terribly wrong. He'd have to call Piper himself and get her down here. Someone had to come for Paige. He nodded his head back toward the door and smiled to keep her distracted. "Then I'm going to go out there and announce Last Call. I'll leave you alone to figure out what you want to do, and then I'll take you home or wherever. Just hang out and promise me you'll leave the work stuff until tomorrow."

"Only if you help me celebrate," she negotiated. "The others, they aren't ready to celebrate. The new baby, he needs to be welcomed and enjoyed now, before he ends up completely obsessive and paranoid and all of that stuff that I know he's going to grow up to be if we don't do this properly now."

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but yes, I will gladly help out in whatever way you guys need, but not tonight. Tonight, you just sit there and relax. Once we get everyone out of here, we'll start that celebrating."

"Perfect," Paige cheered.

"Perfect," Rex agreed, although he wasn't sure why. He winked at her and took off back through the door, ready to get people out of the club as fast as possible tonight. Paige was in trouble, and it probably wasn't something that could be solved in front of a house full of people. As soon as things were half-way quiet, he'd call Piper and see what she wanted to do.

Paige was quickly left to her own devices again, suddenly cold and out of place. It had been that way the whole last week. _Sanctuary, my ass_, she thought. She was always fine if she came in alone and stayed alone, but people didn't want to let her be alone. Someone was always trying to come in or out, so that whenever they left, she was left alone, and the room was left that much more empty. Rooms had a way of doing that, though, didn't they?

She pushed back her chair and stood up, charging first to the front of the desk and then back and forth in front of it. Her hands twitched as she swung her leg out as she turned, almost looking like a first year dancer, struggling to find the correct balance to keep a turn graceful. Then, as soon as she realized that her hands were twitching, she raised one of them up to her hair, the same one that had been tugging on her hair for her for the last few weeks. She had yet to notice that the hair was actually getting thinner in that one spot from all of the pulling. She didn't have time to notice, not really. She had to celebrate.

And what was better to celebrate with than presents?

She paced back and forth some more around the desk, her bright eyes glued to the cardboard box on the desk. Only two feet away, she could read the label just fine. It was addressed to Chris, the other Chris. It was maybe twelve inches on each side, indicating something fairly small. It had made a _thunk _when Rex had put it down on the desk, though, so that also indicated that it was somewhat heavy. There weren't any warning labels on the package, other than, as Rex had said, that it was glass. The return address was New York, but it didn't say what the place was. It was definitely from a store, though. Unless someone had put a glamour on the label to make them think that it was a legit package, which, she supposed, was always possible with this family. It could be something meant to hurt Chris. It wouldn't be the first time that something or someone from the future had tried to dispose of him or the rest of them. It could be just about anything in that box, anything at all.

Paige stopped pacing to stare directly at the box that suddenly looked a lot more dangerous to her than it had before. She eyed it and the distance between herself and the box. Her hands reached for it then pulled back sharply, trying to figure out if she could get away from it in time if something with tentacles tried to pop out at her. It was probably nothing, though, right? It was probably a perfectly benign somethingorother that she was blowing out of proportion. The only way to know for sure was for her to open it, right?

It was probably some weird present from Chris to himself or something anyway. Presents were good. Presents made people happy. Every day should start and end with presents. That reminded her; she really should remember to get to Toys 'R Us tomorrow if she was going to get all of next week's toys for Baby Chris.

As Paige's head jumped from logic to happy and back and forth, her hands had been doing the same. In and out, close and away, her hands reached for the box and then let it go. It was just as she was making a mental note to make a mental note to go to the toy store that her hands started tearing at the tape holding the relatively weighty box closed. Bits of Styrofoam caught under her less than perfect nails as she tugged away at everything around the inside of the box. Her hands caught on to something hard, definitely glass-like, and felt around to find the edges. With both hands, she gingerly hauled the object out the box.

There were two thoughts that ran through her head, equally accurate and simplistic at the same time. The first was one of distaste as she hefted the weight and twisted it in the purplish fluorescent light of the office. _There is no way that the baby gets to play with this, ever_, she thought. The second thought flashed through her mind just as quickly and reverted to the chipper mode she'd been in since when she couldn't remember. _Ooh, pretties!_

She set the object down on the desk then crouched down in front of the desk so that she could still be at eye level with it. She studied every speck of the silvery blue ceramic base, noticing right way that it wasn't perfectly shaped. It sort of wobbled on one side of it, but that was okay. Wobbles add character. The base supported a plain glass dome, filled with the standard sparkly liquid that any other snowglobe would have in it. Inside, that was where the fun part was. It was the most beautiful castle she had ever seen, made of some kind of crystal that almost looked like ice. In front of the castle, lamp posts dotted the sides of a road that supported a horse-drawn carriage that looked like it was actually moving. It was incredible.

It was incredible and so not like Chris to have one of these things. She should know. She was the one who ended up helping him pack up all of his stuff here in the office in the days before he left, but she really shouldn't think about that. She couldn't think about that. If she did, she was going to go places that she didn't want to go. She didn't have time to go there. She had to celebrate.

_New baby. Celebrate. Baby Chris. Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music. Heh. Celebrate . ._ .

_Naturally, no one can let anyone around here just celebrate_, Paige thought half an hour later as a thumping on the door announced yet another interruption that she really didn't want at the moment. She had things to do, a baby to celebrate, and didn't have time for all of these useless interruptions.

"Paige?"

As soon as she heard the voice on the other side with the impatient rapping, she felt her stomach sink. She knew that voice. She hated that voice. If she ignored it, maybe it would go away. She plugged her fingers in her ears, willing the voice to go away. "La la la lalalala," she hummed. "I can't hear you. If I can't hear you, you aren't really there. Go away. Go, go away."

The voice on the other side of the door didn't even have to yell to get through the door. The bar had cleared out so that only Ray and Rex were still around. She wished they would say something to the voice to make it go away, but they had no idea what was going on. They weren't going to do anything. So when the voice on the other side yelled again, all Paige could do was cringe.

"I know you're here, Paige."

_Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts aren't welcome. Have to get ahead of them. He's not real. He's not here. He's not. I don't have time for him. I have to celebrate. He doesn't fit in to 'Celebrate'. He can't. I have to. Celebrate, celebrate, new baby, celebrate._

**III.**

Christopher kicked his bare foot furiously at the air, helpless to do anything else. It wasn't like he had any other way to release all of the pent up frustration and fear. Were he in his own time, that would be one thing, but he wasn't. He didn't have Sam or Jack or Lucy or Charlie — anyone that he could normally go to. Phoebe was almost entirely incommunicado, and Paige wasn't really the Paige he remembered and could normally have talked to. He was still a little too weirded out to talk to his grandfather yet, and he couldn't exactly go to Piper, not when she was such a big part of the problem.

She wasn't doing anything wrong. None of them were. They were just being so damned wonderful (when they were around, anyway). He could see it; they were all worrying and being so, so, so . . . everything he had missed for so damned long. How was he supposed to do what he had come for, to help his brother, and have to spend so much time with these people whom he loved, only to have to leave them behind for a life where they no longer existed? He had known that spending time with his dead family was going to be hard. They had spent plenty of time trying to prepare themselves for that inevitability. He just hadn't known it was going to be _this_ hard. If only they hadn't known about him . . . To do this as a stranger to them, he could have been treated like any other Whitelighter. But as a son, it was growing more and more impossible every hour.

It had been a rough week for him, though, too. He knew they had a lot to deal with, but so did he. He knew they weren't doing it deliberately, but he could see that they were constantly comparing him to the other version of himself. He supposed he probably was a lot like the other one. They had, after all, grown up with the same parents and aunts. They both had an EvilWyatt to contend with. But he wasn't the other guy. Whether it was because of this other him or not, he had had very different experiences growing up. He had always had Paige; she had been a huge part of his life. He'd had lots of cousins and friends and a sister. He couldn't even imagine what it would have been like to grow up without a single one of those people in his life. Then again, he supposed it had been the same for the other him. After all, he'd had a father his entire life, even if they weren't the best of friends as Leo had suggested. But Leo had been taken from him when he was just a kid, irretrievable. He supposed it probably wasn't exactly a _fair_ trade-off to have had Paige instead, but still . . . If he hadn't had Paige, he wouldn't have had Sam or Jack, either. The idea of growing up without either of them didn't even register. That was what made him different, though. He wasn't this other Chris. He was him, himself, Christopher. He really wished that they could see that, even if only for a little while.

The weirdest part, though, had to have been reading that letter that this other him had left behind. All of the stuff about him and Leo, about how they had so much to work out, it was incredibly eerie. Christopher had never had any problems with his father at all. He hadn't had enough time with the man to have them. At the same time, though, he kind of understood what the other him had been thinking. Grandpa had always told them that even if they didn't understand choices that Mom and the others were making for them as kids, they were going to grow up and understand them a lot better as adults. He would say that you never really appreciate your parents and the things they do for you until you are an adult yourself, but you really weren't going to see it until the right moment. From reading that letter, Christopher knew that the other him had reached that point, too. He truly hoped that he was going to have a chance to tell his parents that the same way that the other him had.

Still, he had a lot to do before that was even remotely part of the plan. Right now, he was too tired and crabby to actually have to try to figure out what those things were that he had to do before he could get to whatever else he thought he might have to do. Thoughts really weren't making much sense now anyway.

To be quite honest, Christopher wanted a drink. He hadn't ever been much of a boozer. He had always been too busy to be. A guy couldn't exactly be at the top of his game against the constant threat of demonic attack if he was tanked, especially when he had a family to take care of. There had been a few occasions, though. Wyatt hadn't bothered to notice the club since their mother's death, so it had fallen to Christopher to keep that up and running, too. He'd even tend bar every now and then, so if a patron offered to buy him a drink at the end of the night, he really didn't mind.

It suddenly struck him that . . . well, he wondered anyway, if maybe he didn't have at least _some_thing of a connection with this other Chris that he maybe hadn't realized before. Apparently, this other him, when he'd been in the past, had lived in the bar for almost two years. He'd made the place his home away from the manor. He'd made it enough of a home that since his journey back a week ago, his family had actually kept him away from the club to avoid having to answer questions about where he's been for the last two weeks. Still, he'd always loved the place ,and if he couldn't find comfort anywhere else, P3 was the place he wanted to be. It felt like home to him, too.

Yeah, he really wanted a drink.

Besides, Last Call had gone out about twenty minutes ago and Paige, being the workaholic that she was these days, would be alone in the bar shortly. If nothing else, t had to be warmer inside P3 than it was atop the bridge, so really, where was the harm?

Then, just as he was about to orb out, a voice said behind him, "You cannot save him, you know."

Christopher whirled on his heel, his hands reflexively up in a defensive position and ready for anything, even though he knew his witchly powers weren't working in the Here and Now anyway. There was no reason to let his family's enemies know that, though. His eyes narrowed on the man standing in front of him, his gut telling him that whoever this was, he shouldn't be expecting hugs and puppies. Tensing for possible battle, Christopher gritted his teeth and demanded, "Who are you?"

"None of us wanted things to come to this," the man said, ignoring Christopher's question. "We hoped for the best. You have to know that. We never wanted to be proven right. Most of us wanted your parents to be happy. But Wyatt is still such a threat to the . . . Your coming here a second time is all the proof we need. Gideon perhaps helped the process along, but it was inevitable. There's nothing you can do, Chris. You cannot save him."

Sick to his stomach, Christopher glared at the man. "You're one of Them, aren't you? You're one of the Elders."

Almost friendly, the man offered a hand out to Christopher with a smile. "I am — "

"Don't touch me," Christopher growled, pulling himself back an extra pace to put some distance between them. "I have nothing to say to You, any of You. Stay away from us."

"If you could just give Us a chance to — "

"I know now what you people did to my brother and to me, so I'm warning You, all of You, stay away from my family, or my father won't be the only one of us to kill an Elder," Christopher bit and orbed away before the supposed angel Elder could get another word in edgewise.

As soon as Christopher reached the P3 office, eyes closed in frustration, his pulse quickened. He was angry as all hell with that Elder for thinking They knew anything about anything. It was no wonder Mom had always kept him away from Them. But that anger was apparently nothing. When Christopher opened his eyes, his heart stopped. It restarted again with an even quicker beat.

Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong.

The office was torn apart. All of the drawers had been pulled out of the desk and filing cabinets. The boxes on the steel frame storage had all been ransacked, save one labeled '_Spare Uniforms_', which struck him as odd since no one at the club wore a uniform. The fluorescent light above was flickering. Half of the bank had been blown, startling him with a shock of sparks. He yelped in surprise, jumping back out of the way, and landed his still bare feet in a pile of Post It pads sprinkled with shards of plexi-glass from the light. He leapt back out of the pile, swearing a colorful streak while he leaned against the desk and pulled the pieces out, dulling the pain only a little. He sighed heavily as he took a quick breather and had a chance to really take in the damage. This really was not right at all.

Unsure of what to do next, Christopher was about to call for his father when he heard raised voices coming from the dance floor. He eased himself across the office, wincing in slight pain as the balls of his feet made contact with the cold floor and cursing himself for leaving the house so quickly that he didn't even bring shoes. He didn't have his watch, either, but he'd been sure that the club should have been empty except for Paige and maybe a bartender or two, who would have no reason to be fighting quite as loudly as it sounded like they were.

To Christopher's surprise when he opened the door, Paige wasn't as alone as she should have been. Two bartenders were standing quietly behind the bar, carefully watching Paige and keeping an eye on the exits at the same time. That, Christopher had sort of expected. The other guy, though, that was something he hadn't expected at all. It was quickly becoming apparent that Paige hadn't been expecting the stranger either. Unless, of course, she always greeted people with that particular epithet. She kissed the babies with that mouth?

The crazy thing to him was that, despite the heightened screech in her voice, she looked ecstatically happy telling the guy off. Christopher had never seen her quite so happy, even when she _was_ happy. This was different. He didn't know how, but it felt different. He could see it in her eyes. Whatever happy-go-lucky, Mary Poppins attitude she'd been sporting since his arrival, it couldn't disguise the black fury in her eyes now, a fury that he'd only seen once from her in his entire life. Whatever it was, it was wrong, terribly wrong.

Keeping a wary eye on the stranger, Christopher called out to his aunt, if for no other reason than to make sure she could handle the guy on her own. "Paige? You okay?"

Paige barely even blinked as she sang, "Go home!"

Christopher couldn't help but notice that the other guy did more than blink, causing him to take his attention off of her for the time being. The man visibly paled when he saw Christopher, looking like he was going to be sick. He started to back away from them both, pointing a shaky finger at Christopher. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to form words. Christopher would have felt sorry for the guy if he wasn't so obviously making Paige upset.

"I mean it. Go home."

His attention pulled back to his aunt, Christopher really didn't like what he was seeing. He looked Paige up and down, somehow knowing that he should in no way be leaving her alone. It didn't take more than a second to see the blood oozing from between her fingers. She was clenching her fists so hard that her brightly painted but chipped nails had dug deep enough into her palms to produce freely flowing rivulets of blood. Feeling sick at the thought that things had progressed so far for his aunt that she couldn't even feel that, Christopher firmly told her, "No way. Can't do it."

"Not you, silly," she smiled sweetly without really looking at him. "You don't exist, so it's not like you can go to your home or anyone else's. But he can."

The man didn't seem to hear what Paige was saying. He was too busy staring at Christopher, still unable to find words. At best, he started to stutter, "H-h-_how_?"

Without acknowledging his existence (or lack thereof, as the case may be), Paige pulled Christopher by the elbow to stand slightly behind her. She then took a step closer to the guy, menacing and Donna Reed at the same time. Sugary sweet, she asked, "How what? What's the matter? Seeing a ghost? Maybe it's the Ghost of Christmas Past, here to show you what a completely screwed up individual you are."

"Paige," the guy scoffed.

"No, really," she trilled. "After all, you were there. You saw it. You felt it. And yet, you haven't done a thing to track down the murderer. I bet there isn't even a file started yet. He needed to take his punishment, right? He needed to pay his fine. Well, who's going to pay the fine for what happened to him, huh? Where's the justice now? It was a magical death, but it was still murder."

"Paige, please," the man's low voice pleaded. "We need to talk about this. I understand that you're furious, and I would be, too, but I don't want to leave without us having even said '_Goodbye_'. It wouldn't be right. We've been through too much."

"Like you helping that bastard murder my nephew," Paige retorted, nearly singing with psychotic chipperness. "Chris, allow me to introduce you to Darryl Morris, Inspector Extraodinaire and the sonofabitch who helped murder you two weeks ago."

"It wasn't like that and you know it," Darryl countered. "I didn't know what was going on at the time any more than you apparently do right now."

The witch batted her eyes at the man, innocent and sweet. "Oh, I know exactly what's going on: you are interfering with the celebration process. You were too busy facilitating the murder of my nephew to realize it, but we have a new baby in the house. Since I don't want him growing up thinking we didn't love him enough or didn't have time enough for him, I have a lot to do for him. I don't have time for you when the baby needs me. I have to celebrate."

"Are you hearing yourself," asked Darryl. "I know you're mad at me, but you sound so ridiculous. Be mad at me. I understand. Have your say, do it so that we can say '_Goodbye_' and not regret it for the rest of our lives that we didn't."

Paige smiled at the guy without actually saying anything. Her body changed, though, in a way that only someone in the family would have recognized. She was angry before, but now she had been pushed too far. She would finish this conversation on her own terms, not his. Even Christopher hadn't expected what those terms were.

Under the hands of Rex and Ray, who had been trying their damnedest to be invisible, the entire bar began to glow in a strangely dark blue. They both backed away from the counter, hands raised as if it were white hot. Their eyes simultaneously flashed wide as the glow separated into smaller sections. The three people on the dancefloor didn't even notice what was going on there until Rex said "What the hell" as one of the sections broke away and darted away from them toward the trio.

It wasn't much, but Rex's yell was just enough warning for Darryl, who Christopher was still seeing as just the guy who was giving his aunt a hard time. As if he knew it was going to happen, the guy jumped back a step so that a flash of orbs blew right past the tip of his nose. A second blur of light flew toward him, this time too close behind the other to give him time to jump out of the way. Seconds later, his hand clapped to the meaty part of his arm to stave off the pain left by the heavy base of the tumbler Paige had attacked him with.

"Paige," the guy asked, obviously wounded in more ways than one.

"Darryl," she acknowledged, both challenging and chipper.

Christopher's eyes darted around the room, nervous. He caught sight first of the two bartenders still trying not to be seen. He gave them both a quick reassuring grin before turning his full attention on the more urgent situation at hand. He knew they'd have to deal with the bartenders and what they were seeing eventually, but for now, he didn't think they were in any danger. The Darryl guy was. So was Paige. That, in his mind, trumped all of the rest of them.

A pilsner orbed off the bar and started toward Darryl, forcing Christopher to actually get involved instead of letting Paige handle things in her own way. He stepped up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. He tried to turn her around to face him, but she shrugged him off. "Paige, what are you doing," he asked sharply. "Stop this before you hurt him or someone else. We aren't alone."

"He killed Chris," she sang. "He has to pay his fine."

Christopher bit the inside of his lip to keep from blowing his top on her. He'd already done that one time too many tonight. He shook his head, horribly frustrated. Backing away from her, he raised his hands in surrender to her. "Fine."

"What," Darryl yelped at Christopher. "Are you kidding me?"

"You have a better idea, let's hear it," Christopher retorted. "But we have Innocents here in the room, and I kind of think that it would be better to let her just get this over with so that we can deal with them instead of dealing with whatever this is between you two."

"Paige, please," Darryl started, still thinking he could reason with her. He only saw her finger tick at the glowing bar, signaling that another glass should come barreling to meet him. He stepped forward this time, closing a little bit of the distance between them. "You have to know that I never meant for that to happen." To Christopher, he earnestly said again, "Chris, really, I never would have let you die, not like that. I didn't know — "

"Look, man," Christopher said as quickly and equitably as he could. He really wanted to get Darryl out of there, and he wanted to do it without having to hear any apologies for something that he didn't want to know anything about. "I don't know you. I've never even heard of you. That said, you obviously make Paige upset, and that's reason enough for me to not like you. Do us all a favor and leave, huh?"

Darryl didn't want to leave without saying his piece, whatever injury he had to sustain to get it all out. Maybe Paige had no idea what she was really doing or saying at the moment, but he knew from experience that she would when the spell or whatever was over. His words would have to mean _something_ when she was herself again. If they didn't, at least he would have said them. He had to, for his own sanity, for this own heart. For his own guilt. "I never meant for him to die. If I'd known what was happening — "

Another pilsner flew toward his head, this one orbing back into Paige's hand when it was clear that the glass would miss him by an inch. She re-aimed while he tried again to get through to her.

"We've been through too much to let it end like this. We — "

This time, the glass clipped his ear before flipping end over end into the corner.

The witch grinned wildly, a small satisfaction in her eyes. She shrugged at the shattered glass and said cheerfully, "You can't say we both didn't warn you. Now get out of here!" To emphasize her point, she called for one of the knives they kept under the bar for slicing fruits for the drinks. "Knife!"

Seeing the devastated look on the man's face, Christopher actually felt a little sorry for him. He wondered just how close the guy had actually been to the Halliwell family here in the past. Was he close enough that Paige was going to feel badly about this when she was back to her usual self? Better safe than sorry, Christopher loped over to the man. He gave the guy half a nod that finished up toward the stairway. "Cut your losses, man, and try some other day. If you care about her as much as you seem to think you do, let her be tonight. Let us find a way to fix this first."

Darryl nodded as well, knowing that Chris was right. Defeated, he didn't even try to say anything else. He just dabbed at the blood on his ear as he trudged up the stairs toward the exit.

One crisis averted, Christopher turned his attention to the two bartenders, who were both looking a little more relaxed. The one guy had a broom in his hand and was about to lift the counter so that he could head out to the dance floor after all of the glass that was shattered around the joint. Quickly, Christopher held him up with a raised hand. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it later. Are you guys all right?"

They both nodded slowly. Both men looked at each other a moment, as if arguing something until the guy without the broom asked, "The sisters are witches or something, right?"

Christopher narrowed his eyes on them, not really suspicious but curious (and a little impressed that they were just cutting to the magical chase). "Maybe."

"Well, that explains a lot," the broom guy said.

"It does," asked Christopher.

The other guy spoke up, half laughing with nerves. "A lot of strange stuff happens around here. It's kind of an unwritten rule among those of us who have been here long enough that you just don't ask questions. The sisters are good to us and pay us all better than we'd be able to get at some of the other busier clubs in town. As long as we don't let curiosity get the better of us, it's a great arrangement."

"It's really okay with you guys?"

Broom guy said, "You can tell the guys who don't like the goings-on around here by the turnaround. Those who can hack it stay. The ones who get too freaked out when people who we are pretty sure are leprechauns and fairies are getting served drinks at the bar are the ones who take off after a week or two. You don't need to worry about the rest of us. We can handle it."

Thrilled but still wary, Christopher said, "Just make sure it stays quiet, even among you guys, okay? We never know who's listening. If the sisters get exposed for what they are, the consequences . . . People generally aren't as understanding as you."

"Their secret is safe with us," Broom Guy said. To seal the conversation, he switched topics and asked, "So where have you been? We've missed you around here."

"Long story," Christopher said entirely too quickly, but he didn't have time to explain that one just now. He nodded his head toward the office door, where he'd seen Paige disappear out of the corner of his eye, and said, "I'll tell you sometime. I really should go check on her before she destroys what's left of that room back there."

"Yeah, go," both of the guys said. Broom Guy added, "And really, don't worry about the mess. We'll get it."

"Thanks, guys."

That problem solved, or agreed on anyway, Christopher turned his attention back on his aunt, a sliver of light under the office door showing him the way. Not even imagining that he would get a reception similar to that Darryl guy's, Christopher fearlessly opened the office door with a cheerful announcement of "He's gone."

As she aimed and threw the stapler at Christopher's unprotected head, Paige warned him, "You should be, too."

Hearing the damned near demonic Mary Poppins singing at him, Christopher griped, "You don't have to sound so happy about it."

"Of course I do," she said offhandedly.

Confused, Christopher asked, "Why?"

"We have a new baby. We have to celebrate." Without even realizing she was doing it, Paige's voice dropped the cheerfulness and took on the tone of a whispered mantra as she continued. "Celebrate, baby Chris, celebrate, celebrate because the others can't, celebrate, new baby, things to do, celebrate, celebrate, celebrate."

Scared that his aunt was truly falling apart, Christopher dashed worriedly to her side, ducking the pencil holder's trajectory along the way. He gripped her upper arms, fighting the urge to shake the Paige he knew into her head. He knew she'd been acting strangely. Everyone had said so at one time or another in the last week. She had been avoiding him so skillfully, however, that he had no idea that things were really this bad with her. He had _no_ idea. Softly, as if he were talking to a spooked animal, he asked, "Paige? What's wrong with you?"

Sickly sweet, she responded, "Silly boy, there's nothing wrong with me. I'm peachy! _You_ aren't supposed to be here."

"You keep saying that. Why?" Christopher didn't exactly get an answer. Paige's hand swiped the desk for something to clunk him over the head with, so he held her a little tighter, pulling her almost close enough to hug. "Why shouldn't I be here?"

Paige put her hand to her nephew's chest and pushed him away hard. Elatedly happy, she told him, "I don't have time to do this. There's a new baby in the family, you know. We should be celebrating. There's so much to do, and everyone is so busy that I have to do it all. I have to do it all because they can't. They need time, and I have to give it to them." Again her voice dropped as if there was no one in the room but her. "Celebrate. He's not alone this time. He's loved. He's happy. He's celebrated. New baby. Celebrate."

Growing even more fearful, Christopher tried softly to try to get her attention. "Look at me. Please? You had every right to shut that guy Darryl out, but you can't shut me out forever. You can't. I wish you would just look at me. You don't have to talk to me or anything, but I wish you could see me."

"I see you," she clucked in cheerfully condescending disagreement.

"Do you," he asked. "Or do you see the other me?"

"Pardon me for not seeing a distinction, dummy," she giggled.

"I'm not _him_, Paige."

The bright-eyed witch flipped her hands up in the air, palms up as if to say "_Whatever_". Her head bobbed side to side cheerfully as she proclaimed, "If it looks like a duck . . . "

"Quack, quack," Christopher groaned, annoyed with her attitude for the first time. He would almost be tempted to just orb out of there and leave her to her dementia if he weren't so worried. It wasn't only the chanting. Of course, attacking people with orbing knives wasn't a good sign. A lot of seemingly little things were adding up to a much bigger thing that was really ugly and dangerous for her. Unwilling to give up on her yet, Christopher dusted off the cushions of the plexi-glass and flopped down onto the couch. He took his time crossing an ankle onto his knee, slumping back into the cushions, and resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa. He casually cradled his now aching temple in his hand as he tiredly asked, "What do you want me to say?"

For the first time, Paige offered a brutally honest answer, even if it was still in her ridiculously happy voice. "You can't tell me what I need to hear, not if you aren't him. And you aren't him. You shouldn't even be here. You're in the way. I should be celebrating now, not playing with ghosts."

Christopher smiled gently at her, appreciating her honesty, disguised though it was. Reciprocating, he asked, "Try? Please? I know I'm not him, but maybe if you try to talk to me, you might feel — "

He had to throw his hands up to catch the next thing to come flying at him in response. It wasn't anywhere near the answer he was looking for. His hands stung as a glass orb smacked hard into them, prompting him to oddly wish his sister were around so that she could have frozen the damned thing. Angrily he dropped it into his lap and glared up at her, forcing himself to remember to check his temper as he shook the pins and needles out of his hands. He had to fight the urge to throw anything back, tempting as it was. Whatever this was, she didn't know what she was doing or saying. Right? Still, that hurt like hell.

"Do you mind," he barked instead.

Sugary sweet, Paige replied in song, "I told you that you shouldn't be here. That wouldn't have hurt if you had gone away like I told you to."

His hand still stinging, Christopher temporarily did lose his temper. Hurt and confused, he snapped, "Then why don't you just zip on up to my past, figure out exactly when it was that Wyatt turned evil, and tell him not kill anyone so that my life can be normal? I won't have to be here, and you can go back to not having to even look me in the eye. Sound like a plan to you?"

Cheerfully, she disagreed. "I would, but I have too many other things to do right now. Haven't you heard? We have a new baby in the house. He needs to be celebrated. There's so much to do. The announcements need to go out, and the alarms need to be set, and I have to build a new bedroom, and I have to celebrate. I have to celebrate. The others can't. You don't get it. They can't celebrate. Not now. So I have to. Celebrate the new baby. Celebrate. New baby. Lots to do. Celebrate."

"_I'm_ the baby. I give you permission not to. For five minutes, forget about that and talk to me."

All of the color that remained in Paige's face drained away, turning her already pale features a ghostly white. There was no trace of the sickening happiness in her as she started to violently shake and back away from him, reaching behind her for the corner of the desk to help her stand on her own two legs. Her face contorted, struggling between pure hatred and that smile that still wanted to take over every inch of her. What came out was a wicked sneer coupled with eyes burning a hole right into Christopher's chest.

"Get out, whatever you are, you evil bastard."

Confused, Christopher stood up again and made to cross over to her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Get the hell out of here right now!" With that, Paige brandished the knife she had called for when Darryl was still in the club, pointing it directly at Christopher's chest. He stopped dead in his tracks, their eyes both dropping to the length of the blade. Christopher stared at it, stunned, while Paige marveled at it with wide eyes that were suddenly much more afraid than they were furious. "That's a lot of blood."

"That is a _lot_ of blood," Christopher said, too, staring at the blade. "But where did it come from?"

"You shouldn't be here," said Paige again, her voice trembling in song.

Christopher's eyes worked furiously, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from. On second glance at the knife, he followed the blood up along the blade to the hilt to his aunt's hand, which was also streaked in blood. Fearful, he looked her up and down, afraid that something might have happened before he'd come to the club, whatever it was that had torn up the office as it was.

Paige, however, wasn't anywhere near as concerned about the blood as he was. She turned away from him, lowering the knife. She bent over and tossed through the pile of Post It notes that were scattered on the floor, looking for the perfect shade of blue to write herself a memo to figure out how to get the ghost away from her once she was done celebrating the baby. "You shouldn't be here," she mumbled. "You're in the way. I have to celebrate the baby, the new baby, not play Ghostbuster. There's a new baby. He needs to be celebrated. Celebrate, celebrate, new baby, things to do, celebrate . . . "

It was as Paige was bent over the pile of notes that Christopher noticed that even when she appeared to have settled down, she hadn't stopped moving. Her hands were constantly searching for something to do. If she wasn't playing with her hair, she was tapping her hands against her thighs, anything to keep her hands busy. The problem was, she was doing it with the knife still in her hand. Christopher wanted to be sick, seeing the deep gashes in the side of his aunt's thigh, gashes that had stained her skirt a dangerous black-red.

Soothingly, Christopher stepped a little bit closer to her, reaching his hand out to her. "Can you give me the knife, please? Darryl's gone. You don't need it anymore."

"No, that's okay," she chirped. "I might still need it."

"Paige, really," Christopher said worriedly. He started walking even closer to her, hand out and waiting. "I need you to give me the knife."

Furiously cheerful, Paige stood up and turned to him, shrieking off key, "I said, '_NO_'!"

At the same time, Christopher lunged for the knife to try to take it out of her hand, but caught it instead with the right side of his gut. They both grunted in surprise as the hilt stuck in him like a stopper, the rest of the blade disappearing as if by magic in Christopher's stomach. Paige's hand stayed on the hilt for a moment, shaking too violently to make an effort to remove the blade. She gaped at her hand, terrified. It wasn't until Christopher grunted again in pain that her eyes rose up to meet his.

"_I_ killed you," she whispered.

"P-paige?"

"I killed you." Paige's hand finally let go of the blade as she stepped back in horror. "Oops," she said stonily, as if she weren't really saying it at all. "Forgot to use a glove — can't very well go poking around in a mortal wound — breaking the law . . . Still here," she started whispering as she backed all the way into the wall and slid down it. "Still here, still here, still here . . . "

Christopher tumbled backward, unable to pull his hands away from the knife in his stomach to break his fall. He crashed hard into the frame of the sofa, jarring his back and rubbing his spine raw as he slid down. He took a second to catch his breath, what little of it he could catch, and braced his index and middle fingers of his left hand around the wound, giving it a little pressure. He again tried to catch his breath as he grasped the hilt of the blade, preparing to pull it out. Even the grip he had on the knife was too much, sending blinding white sparks into his eyes. There was no way he was getting this thing out of himself without help. Weakly, he called for his aunt, "P-paige? I can't do this. You — "

" . . . start with the basement, whistle while you work," she continued to mutter. "Has to pay his fine, don't even try to orb out, only Gideon can stop this, still here, still here . . . "

His aunt completely useless, Christopher forced himself to remember that he had to call for his father, not Charlie like he normally would. Everything was so cold and blurry that he wasn't sure who he was actually calling for. "Charlie, " he called then shook his head, reminding himself that that wasn't right. He needed Leo. He needed his dad. "Da-dad."

Before he'd even finished calling for his father, a large group of orbs circled into the room in between himself and his aunt. When the orbs settled into human form, it revealed Leo, Piper, and Phoebe, all with their backs to Christopher. All three started forward when they saw her sitting on the ground, muttering to herself words that were quickly descending into nonsense.

" . . . killer killer killer . . . still here stillherestillherekillerstilllkiller . . . "

"I thought you said she was okay," Phoebe asked Leo, seeing the blood on Paige's hands as she was wringing them together. She knelt down by her sister whispering, "Paige? Honey? Can you sit up for me?"

Paige didn't even seem to see them. She kept muttering, although a little more discernibly, "I killed you. I killed you. Forgive me. I killed you."

Next Piper crouched down next to her sister, even though it took her a little longer to do so with the lingering surgical pain. Softly, she asked, "Killed who? Paige? Who did you kill? You didn't kill anyone, honey, I promise."

Paige's voice instead settled out, back into her normal voice with a little bit of panicked confidence mixed into it. "You stay here! You hear me? Just hold on. I'll get your dad, but you have to hang on for me. Leo!" Still not really seeing her sisters, Paige catapulted herself up from the floor and pushed her sisters out of the way, darting over to the sofa. Along the way, she screamed for her brother-in-law in quick succession just as she had only three weeks ago. "Leo! Leo LEO LEO LEO!"

She scampered over to her nephew, who weakly pulled away from her as she tried to put her hands on his shoulders. Christopher looked at her with wide eyes, not sure if he was seeing what was really going on. "P-paige?"

The other three in the room turned around, stunned. All of the air escaped Leo's lungs in a strangled gasp as he took three very long, quick steps across the room and dropped to his knees at his son's side before even realizing he was doing it. "What happened," he roared.

"It was an accident," Christopher heaved. His father's hands immediately reached for the wound, but Christopher put a hand out to stop them. "Just a second." Christopher turned his bloody hands to Paige, turning each one over once in front of her. "It's blood," he told her. "It's real. I'm real. I'm here. I'm not dead, and I'm not him."

Without explanation, Paige glowed a strange blue color, running from her head to her toes. Her eyes suddenly cleared and she started, as if seeing what was going on in front of her for the first time. "I know. I'm so sorry, Chris. I am so, so sorry," she said softly, crying. It didn't take long before tears mingled in the corners of her worried smile. "Will you let him get that damned thing out of you now please?"

"Uh. Nevermind," said Phoebe, dropping the scrap of paper which she and Piper had scribbled a counter spell on, just in case. The remaining two sisters looked at one another, relieved to have their other sister back. Still not quite sure what had happened, though, Phoebe shrugged, "Well, that was easy."

"Steady his shoulders," Leo told Paige on the other side of the room, putting his right hand on Christopher's forehead for comfort. To Christopher he said, "It's going to be okay. Just try to relax." When Christopher nodded in agreement, Leo told them both, "On three. One. THREE!"

Piper and Phoebe both turned their heads away as Christopher screamed, holding onto one another's hands for support. As many times as Piper had pulled Darklighter arrows out of Leo's body or Paige's, she hadn't ever grown accustomed to the sound. She certainly wasn't ever going to get used to it with her children. She couldn't even look as Leo's hands started to glow over Christopher's stomach, doing their magical healy thing that she was suddenly more grateful for than she'd ever been before.

Before she knew it, Christopher was calling out to her, "It's safe to look now, Mom."

She laughed lightly, her voice trembling with relief. "How did you know?"

Wryly, Christopher told her, "You were never able to look when it was one of us kids. Anyone else, sure, but not any of the kids. I'm kind of used to it."

"Let's try not to get you too used to that, huh?"

Christopher nodded then turned his attention back on his aunt. He knew he'd missed something, but he was grateful to have had her sitting there with him. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You okay now?"

"Yeah, are you," Phoebe interjected.

"I'm fine," Paige told them all, nodding solemnly. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Yeah, that _Personal Gain_ thing is kind of tricky sometimes," Piper teased, much more relieved. Still a little serious, though, she asked, "What were you thinking? Paige, haven't you learned from any of the other times ones of us tried to get over our pain with magic? Dan ended up ancient, I ended up a Valkyrie, Phoebe has — well, you get the picture. I don't want to yell. Can you just promise me that you won't go trying any more spells to deal with things like that? You can talk to any one of us. There are no designated mourning periods, you know."

Paige looked up at her sisters with tears in her eyes. "I know. I do. I just didn't know how to . . . You weren't there and I didn't want you to ever have to be, even in your imaginations. It was bad enough that Leo and I had to see it. It was — No one that close in my life has died since my parents. I didn't know how to — I didn't remember that it could hurt so badly."

"Speaking of you hurting badly," Christopher groaned and tried to sit up a little. Even though he was completely healed, it still hurt enough and probably would for the rest of the night. His hurt wasn't the one he was concerned about, though. He pointed his father toward the shreds of Paige's skirt and said, "I think those could probably use a little help."

Leo's fingers gently reached for the folds of fabric around Paige's thigh without even thinking about it, glowing before they even got there. She looked down at his hand for a second then pulled her leg away, refusing to let him touch her. "That's okay," she grinned. "I think it would be good to let these heal on their own, along with the rest of me."

"Let him look at them at least," Christopher requested. He looked at his father, a strange look of understanding that none of the others could translate passing between them. Proudly, Christopher added, "He's a doctor, remember?"

On her nod of approval, Leo stood up and Christopher scooted over onto the other end of the sofa to give his father room to work. Leo asked Piper for the First Aid kit behind the bar which she quickly took off to go get. Phoebe, in the meantime, marveled at the tornado that had seemingly attacked only the office of the club and nowhere else in San Francisco.

"Wow. So can I ask what happened in here?"

Paige quickly apologized without really apologizing, "I'll clean it up in the morning. The bar, too. I know I made a little mess, but I can get it." With a slight grin, she added, "I'll do it without magic, I promise."

Just as Paige was apologizing, Piper came back in with the First Aid kit, thumb hooked over her shoulder. "What happened in there? Rex just dumped an entire trash bin of glass out the back."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Paige groaned. "I'll deal with it in the morning, I swear." She seemed to stop for a second, realizing what had created all of the glass in the first place. Her nose wrinkled, thinking of Darryl and the long road they both had ahead to dealing with what had happened that day in Piper's bedroom, and said sadly, "I have a lot to deal with in the morning."

Yawning, Piper said, "We all have a lot to deal with that can wait until morning." To her son, she added, "Right, Christopher?"

Christopher wasn't really paying any attention to the others in the room anymore and didn't hear his mother talking to him. When he'd slid over on the sofa, at first he'd landed on something round and hard. He'd arched his back a little bit and pulled out the object from behind him, seeing for the first time what it was that Paige had thrown at him. When he'd seen it, his stomach had turned to ice. _It couldn't be. There was no way that it . . . It couldn't be._

"Christopher, honey," Piper asked again, taking a few steps over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Huh," he asked distractedly.

"I said that we could all go home and deal with everything in the morning," she told him, brow crinkled in concern. "I know you're mad at me, and I guess I don't blame you, but will you at least come home? I'll make a full apology in the morning, complete with . . . " Piper caught sight of the globe in his hands and peered at it a little closer, wondering what it was that was holding his attention when she was trying so hard to apologize. "Christopher? What is that?"

Now suddenly more aware, Christopher's head shot up, eyes wide. He clung to the globe harder, not wanting them to see it or get near it. It was too important. After Paige had thrown it at him (not that she had any idea what it was), he needed to be sure that it was okay before he let them near it. It was far too important to his past for him to let anything else happen to it. Before he even knew what he was saying, he told them (even though he knew they hated that excuse), "I can't. Future Consequences. I gotta go."

Without any further warning, Christopher orbed out of the office, leaving his bewildered family staring at the empty space he'd left with open mouths.

To make sure none of them followed him, Christopher immediately started orbing here and there, all over the city to keep them off balance. He quickly hit an alley, a department store downtown, a random pier, and a few other choice spots of no significance. He even orbed back to the club, to the back door, and waited there long enough to hear his father call his name before orbing out again. He went to his mother's old restaurant, but security alarms started blaring so that he couldn't stay there for more than a second or two. All the while, he held close to the orb, not daring to let even one finger slip from its base.

Finally, he arrived back on top of the bridge like he always did. He knew it was the safest place in the world for him to be, other than a cemetery. His father might be able to find him there, but it would at least take him a while. He needed time alone to think, time to figure out what to do next. Of course, because that was what he needed, he didn't get it. The cosmos was great at screwing that up for him, no matter what time he was in.

A jingling of orbs floated down in front of him, taking the shape of another stranger to Christopher. Darkly, as if he wasn't going to give Christopher a choice, the man said, "You need to hear us out, Christopher. For your own safety and for your future."

**IV.**

"Christopher, you get back here right now!"

Leo briefly opened his eyes to look at his wife with understanding that only he could have compared to the others in the room. Christopher was, after all, his son, not his nephew. As much as he knew the other girls loved his boy, there was still that elevated level of affection for him that only Leo and Piper could have. Still, as much as he understood his wife's apprehension, she was being incredibly disruptive to the searching process. "Piper, relax. He's fine. Yelling at him isn't going to bring him back."

"Really? Then what's your brilliant plan to get him back this time, Daddy?"

His eyes closed once again, Leo spoke softly in that annoyingly serene Elder voice that he had used at first when he came back from Up There four months ago. "Calm down. If you try too hard, he's just going to block me and then we won't be able to find him until he wants to be found, period. So if you could please just give me a moment, I'll let you know where he is and we can figure out what — Damn!"

"He put you on '_Mute_', didn't he," Phoebe half-chuckled. "I hate it when he does that."

"No, he didn't. I'm still an Elder. He can cut all of you out completely all he wants, but he can't entirely lose me. He can block me until I find his soul again, but it isn't possible for him to clip his wings since he's genetically tied to all of the Elders since I was an Elder at the time. No matter what he does, They-We will always be able to find him. That doesn't mean he can't make it extremely difficult in the process."

Concerned (and afraid of what the answer was going to be), Piper asked, "Then why '_damn_'?"

"He isn't alone," Leo nearly growled. Before she even had the chance to open her mouth, Leo knew Piper was going to ask the question he didn't have an answer to yet and held his hand up to staunch the impulse any of them had to ask him what was going on. "I can't tell who it is, but they're talking."

"Well, then get me over there so that I can blow whoever the hell it is up before something happens!"

"It's not that simple," Leo said, irritated. He cocked his head to side, as if he were trying to listen in to the conversation, which, considering the way They had always listened in on them before, he probably had that power now, too. Quickly he explained during a supposed silence, "I didn't say I didn't know _what_ was with him. I just said I didn't know _who_. It's one of the Elders. I can't tell who."

"Again, I say, get me there so that I can blow the sonofabitch up. Thank you."

Phoebe reached over and grabbed her elder sister's upper arm, pulling Piper closer to her. She locked the bicep in the crook of her arm and with her other hand rubbed up and down along Piper's angrily trembling forearm. Soothingly, she said, "Honey, give him a second. If Leo thought Christopher was in any danger, he would have orbed there without even thinking about it. Give it a minute and see what happens. Leo won't let anything happen to Christopher, you know that."

"Don't you use logic on me right now," Piper retorted, still shaking. "Just wait until you have kids. You don't understand. You couldn't possibly — "

"Hey!" Paige jumped in, offended. "You know damned well we care about Christopher as much as you do. That's really unfair of you to — "

"He's alone," Leo announced, having missed the entire commotion going on not five feet away from him. He opened his eyes and looked directly at Piper. "And he's perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said. "He's twenty-five years old. He can handle himself in a conversation just fine."

"That's all they did, talk?"

"All they did was talk," confirmed Leo. He sighed heavily, tired, knowing that his evening wasn't even remotely over. "He's annoyed, but he's fine. That's the second time one of Them has cornered him tonight. He handled himself just fine. I'm going to go get him. Is there anything else I need to know about what the two of you talked about in the kitchen before I go? Anything would help."

Piper's eyes popped out in disbelief. "You aren't going without me." She felt Phoebe squeeze her arm even tighter, enough to cut off the circulation, and added, "Without us."

As a show of solidarity, the third sister linked arms with her other two. The three of them stared directly at Leo, standing straight as boards, waiting for him to make the next move. Leo stared back, trying his hardest not to give in and let them win, once again. This time it was different. When Chris had been here before, he hadn't trusted his father to save his own life, let alone the lives of those around him. The sisters had respected that once they had known who Chris was. For six months, Chris's identity (and existence) had remained a secret from the boy's father. Once Leo had known, he had respected Chris's feelings, as hard as it was for him to do it. Now that the tables were turned, now that he was the one on the inside and they weren't, the sisters weren't anywhere near as respectful of Chris's needs. Maybe that wasn't fair to say so, but there was a certain amount of hypocrisy in the whole thing. Still, it might not hurt to have them there as much as he was thinking it would.

Reluctantly, Leo said, "Fine, but unless he has changed his mind in the last few minutes, you need to let me carry the conversation."

"Please," Paige smirked. "Leo, you couldn't carry a tune in a bucket."

"This isn't a negotiation," Leo retorted. "He trusts me. You, on the other hand, just stuck him in the gut with a very large, very painful knife. If he's going to talk to any of us right now, it's going to be me. Can you at least give me the chance to get through to him before the rest of you jump in? Everyone else has scared him away tonight. I'm sorry to put it that way, but you all know it's true. The important part is getting him to come home tonight, not who gets him to do it, right?"

Feeling that they were wasting too much time already, Piper released her arms from her sisters' sides and reached forward to take Leo's hand. She smiled at him and said, "It's cold outside. Let's get him home before he freezes himself to death." She looked over her shoulder at Paige and ordered, "Follow us."

With that, the family disappeared from the confines of P3's tiny office in a rain of orbs bright enough to light the entire club.

Seconds later, as her sister's orbs settled around them, Phoebe found herself tottering in the strength of the wind. She was about to ask if maybe Paige had taken a left when Leo had taken a right when she heard her sister swear next to her. She looking in the same direction and gasped. "I'll raise your '_Damn_' and throw in a '_Jesus, Mary, and that other guy, Joe_'. This is really high. Really, really high. What are we doing up here?"

Just over the tips of their toes, they were looking down into the traffic of the Golden Gate bridge.

Closing her eyes and gulping hard, Phoebe asked, "Are you sure your little Whitelighter radar isn't just a little on the fritz?"

"This can't be right," Paige mumbled over her sister's question. "What would Christopher be doing up here?"

"Hiding from us," Piper said sadly from behind them. She reached out and pulled them both back from the edge of the beam by the elbows. "Which is apparently something they both do from time to time."

Piper nodded toward where Leo was slowly approaching Christopher, talking to him in low whispers. Christopher was sitting cross-legged on a perch a little bit higher than the rest of them, looking down at them with obvious nervousness. He shook his head wildly at Leo, who gestured for his son to come down and join them so that they could talk. As the three sisters watched the men in their lives attempt to coax the other into his position, they stood helplessly by, unable to hear what was being said over the winds.

Ten feet away, Christopher was asking his father, "Why did you bring them here?"

Leo shrugged and rolled his eyes. "They didn't give me a choice. Paige would have followed me. They are, however, going to stay over there and not say anything as long as you don't give them a reason to think that I'm not getting anywhere with convincing you to come home tonight."

"I'm not going home tonight," Christopher argued plainly. "They are all too confused about me, and I'm only making things worse for everybody by being there. I yelled at Mom. Wyatt can't get anywhere near me without trying to either throw things at me or orb me out of the county. Paige never would have slipped as badly as she did if I hadn't been around. I think it's best if I give them time to figure themselves out before they worry about figuring me out."

"It isn't like that and you know it," Leo grumbled angrily. He didn't mean for it to sound that way, but it did anyway. Still, maybe that was going to be the best way to get through to his son. It had worked the first day Christopher was back. Why couldn't it now? Settled on a sort-of plan of action, Leo crossed his arms lazily over his chest, settling in for what could possibly become a long argument. "So are you going to tell me why you're sitting here feeling sorry for yourself or am I going to have to guess?"

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself," Christopher shot back. "I'm not."

"Then come down here and tell me that to my face."

Christopher looked over to where his mother and aunts were standing there watching him, waiting for him to make some kind of move. He hated seeing the way they looked at him, like he needed to be coddled and smothered and would make him his very favorite chocolate chip cookies as soon as they were done kissing and pinching his cheeks. He wished they would quit looking at him like that and that they would quit treating him like that. Any other parent of an adult child would have let him blow off the steam and come home on his own terms because he was, in fact, an adult. He was an adult with adult problems and would handle them like an adult. He'd blow off the steam and go home with a clear head to formulate a plan. That was how it was supposed to work. Apparently, he was the only one in on the secret that he hadn't been twelve years old in a very, very long time. That's what had put him in this jam in the first place.

The only way out of this was to convince them that everything was okay. He understood that now. They weren't going to stop babying him, of course, but it would maybe quell the impulse a little bit if he could get them to think there wasn't anything drastically wrong. He just had to convince them that he was fine. He'd find another way to calm down on his own time and then he could figure out what to do next. He just had to make them believe.

_'And miles to go before I sleep,_' Christopher reminded himself, convincing himself that he was right. It didn't matter that Leo was probably right, too. He had a show to put on and get them all to believe it. Suddenly he was very glad he had made himself stop crying before the family had appeared. It would be a lot easier to deal with them if they didn't think he was upset. He was fine and dandy. That was all they needed to hear.

Unfortunately, Piper needed to hear it immediately. Unable to wait any longer for Leo to negotiate his way out of her mess, she stomped over across the beam of the bridge, irritated and cold. "Christopher, get down here this instant. We need to talk to you and I am not going to stand around doing it here in the middle of the night. I want to know what the hell is going on with you, and I want to know now. Damn it, Chris, we're all tired. Come down before we make you come down."

Every bit of convincing that Christopher had given himself that he was truly okay vanished into thin air as his mother yelled at him. Now he was just as freaked out as he had been when he'd left them at the club. Everything would have been fine if she had let him go at his own pace instead of, once again, demanding answers he didn't know how to give. Thankfully, his father came to his rescue the best he could.

"Piper, stop it. I know you're upset, but this is not the way to do this," said Leo. "You have been worked up ever since you called me tonight. It isn't good for you, and it isn't good for the rest of us. Relax."

"Don't you dare," Piper snapped, hating that he was right. Of course he was right. She knew he was right. She had been overreacting to just about any little thing for the last three weeks, and she knew it, but that didn't mean it wasn't warranted. Her family had been through too much lately for her to think straight. This was not the time to try to make her think like her usual self. It was too hard. Angrily, she warned both of her men, "Don't you patronize me, either of you. I have had about all of this that I can take right now. So no more secrets, no more lies, starting with that thing in your hands. We do this together, as a family — "

" — Or not at all," Christopher finished for her. "How about you all go home instead and let me figure this out on my own?"

Across the beam where she was waiting with surprising patience, Phoebe looked up at Christopher, sitting there cross-legged on the beam, and felt that tug around her mind again that told her she was about to lose control. She tried to force herself to stay in the moment, not to think about anything other than what Leo was saying in response to Christopher. She clung to his words, but they weren't enough to keep her there. Before she knew it, all she could hear was Leo's voice, telling Chris that it was only fair that he . . .

". . . _deserve to know what I did that's so bad._"

She heard herself, Chris, snuffle away more tears that somehow she didn't know she had left. She — Chris — had cried over Leo long enough when she was a kid, all that time he missed, but for whatever reason, they were back. The tears were back with a vengeance and she couldn't stop them. She heard Chris saying, "_You were never there for me. You were there for everyone else. Mom. Wyatt. Half the world. But you were never there for me. You didn't have the time._"

Then, without warning, even that world of Chris's memory was gone. Instead, she was sitting with him in the house, downstairs in the kitchen. They were staring down at a blank sheet of notebook paper in front of him, tapping the eraser end of the pencil on it. She knew that he was nervous, really nervous. He was waiting, waiting for something important. She knew he was thinking that he shouldn't be putting this much pressure on the answer, but he had been thinking that the answer he was waiting for was one of the _Last Straw_ variety. He knew it shouldn't be, but he couldn't help it.

Hoping to steer the answer a little closer to the one he wanted, he tried to boost the up side of his request. "_We're supposed to have some sort of personal aspect on it. Most of the other kids have grandparents who can tell them about it. And if their grandparents are gone, their parents can at least tell them everything that their parents told them about it. But you're here. You were there. Grandpa's dad couldn't go because of his eye, but . . . You don't even have to tell me anything. I'll do all of my own research if you'll just read my paper when I'm done and tell me if I got it right. Please, Dad?_"

Then, before Phoebe or Chris heard the answer, she could feel herself being dragged back to the bridge where he had been sitting with just Leo. It had seemed like she had been there for a long, excruciating time, but she knew it had flashed in Chris's mind for just a fraction of a second. She could hear him thinking, "_That's not fair. You can't exactly hold him hostage for that time he said, 'No'. You were twelve. You couldn't have known that asking him to relive the place where he died was actually going to bother him. You know better now. It was war. It was hell. No man should have to relive that, even him. He wasn't ignoring you like always. He just didn't want to talk about it. But, still . . . _"

They were pulled away again, this time to the bridge top, only it was daylight. With what little capacity she had for her own thoughts, she started to scold Chris, even though she knew this was her mess and not his. Not even realizing that she was saying it out loud, she grumbled, "Chris, I don't have time for this. You, the new you, you're in trouble. We're trying to get you to come home right now, but I can't help your mom and dad unless I can actually think for myself. You have to let me talk to — "

As if Chris were really inside her head and could really hear her, Phoebe's mind relaxed and let her hear what was going on around her instead of in him. At the moment, though, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be there, either. Paige was standing slightly off to the side, trying to be as small as possible. Piper and Leo flanked the other Chris on either side, but the poor kid was backing away from them as well. He clutched the orb that he had taken from the club tightly, his hands turning white with the effort.

"I can't," said Christopher, shaking his head.

Then, without warning, the globe started to sparkle in Christopher's hands. Surrounded by Whitelighter orbs, it floated away from him before he could catch it. His eyes widened in near terror as it pulled away from him until it settled gently into Paige's waiting hands. She smiled over at him with the most reassuring, honest smile she had. "Christopher, it's perfectly safe. It's obviously important to you so I would never let anything happen to it. I'm just going to hold on to it so that you can talk to your parents without worrying about it. See? It's completely safe. So talk to them. I'll be right here with it where you can see me the whole time. I promise. Talk to them."

Christopher just withered under the looks he was getting from everyone but Phoebe. "I . . . I . . . "

"We — _You_ need to do this," urged Leo. "We can't help you unless you talk to us. Tell us what you're thinking. I know there is plenty you can't tell us; we've pretty much beat that horse to death. But you can tell us at least something to help you."

Turning to face only Leo, Christopher looked hard at his father. His voice high and pleading, he said, "There's a line. There's a very definitive line you can't cross, Dad. What you saw in the future, it more than just crossed that line. I can't tell you any more than you already know. It's too dangerous. It's just — there's a _line_. Okay? There is a line."

Phoebe didn't hear the answer of anyone present around her. Instead, her throat tightened with dread as that same dark voice from future's past inspired that horribly conflicted feeling in Chris's gut. She didn't have the energy to fight her mind or his this time and let Chris take her where he needed her to go. As she gave in, she knew that she didn't want to be there. Chris certainly didn't. She knew. She could feel it, too. Sickly sweet, the response made both her and Chris cringe.

"_A line? And who draws that line, Chris, hmm? You? Suddenly you, the Golden Boy, have the ability to actually judge what's right and what's wrong? Need I remind you that this was your idea at the start? I finished it. Big deal. You were going to get there eventually. I just beat you to it. So what? When you want to do it, it's okay, but when I actually do it, it's suddenly over this invisible line of yours?_"

Astonished at Wyatt's seeming inability to distinguish Right from Wrong, Chris gaped at his brother. "_It was a joke, Wyatt. I was just angry. I never meant for it to actually happen! If you had just . . . _"

Wyatt grinned at his little brother with a twistedly sunshiny face, as if he had just discovered that there really was a Santa Claus. Excitedly, he asked, "_What the hell is your problem? Chris, we are finally free! Don't you get that? You are safe to live that life without magic that you and Mom and everyone else has been going on and on about for all these years. Don't you get it? We don't have to look over our shoulders anymore._"

Phoebe felt Chris's gut sink. His throat had almost been too dry to talk as he incredulously asked, "_Is that what you think you did?_ _Wyatt, you —_ "

Before Chris could finish his question, orbs circled in between them, settling into the form of their father. As soon as he was completely solid, the man turned his attention to his eldest son, his back turned on his youngest. "_Wyatt, are you okay? I just went to see how everything went with the mission, but none of the other Elders were there. I went to the safe house, but it's completely torn up and Chris is gone. You weren't with him, and I was afraid someone had taken you both. Are you all right? Are you hurt?_"

Chris couldn't believe that that was the question his father had for his brother. He opened his mouth to call attention to himself but Wyatt simply shrugged at his father and answered him instead. "_I'm fine, Dad._" With an unreadable expression, he nodded over Leo's shoulder and added, "_Chris is okay, too._"

Leo had turned around, his eyes burning with what Chris was sure was anger but Phoebe recognized as fatherly fear. "_Chris? What are you doing here? I told you to stay hidden. God, Chris, I can't protect you if you can't even follow the simplest instructions._"

Their shared heart irritated, Phoebe and Chris snapped at his father, "_It wasn't safe! It never was. As soon as Wyatt started working with Them, I wasn't anywhere close to safe, and you know it!_"

"_Chris, I know you've never been a fan of the Elders. You were too close to your mother to ever appreciate Them for what They have done for us. They kept all of us alive a lot longer than we could have done by ourselves. Ever since the Titans slaughtered all of the existing Elders, those of us who were brought up from Whitelighter status have tried to make this world as safe as we could with the Titans around. Your mom didn't trust that. I understand that she wouldn't want to trust anything that would take me away from her and you boys, but I was gone _for_ you, _for_ your mother and your brother. It was the only way to keep you safe. You're an adult now, Chris, or, at least, you're supposed to be. I need you to act like one and stay put when I tell you to. You're just lucky that I was on separate business when the others went on the attack. Do you think I could actually have done my job if I had known that I should have been having to worry about you? Damn it, Chris. Do you have any idea how worried I was when you weren't at the safe house? You have to listen to me when I tell you do something! I can't be worrying about — I just can't._"

Bitterly, Chris burst out, "_I'm not the one you should be worried about!_"

Phoebe could see that Leo was about to ask what that was supposed to mean when a new set of orbs settled around them, buzzing with urgency. "_LEO!_" The orbs shouted on the way down from the skies and went on rambling, hardly making sense through wracked sobs as they hit the steel. "_They're . . . They. . . Gone. They're a-all dead!_"

"_Thomas, calm down. Who is dead?_"

"_I did as you asked and went to check out the site where we sent the raiders. All of the other Elders, the ones who went on the attack. They're dead,_" the deceptively old-looking Elder had sobbed. They all watched as the stricken look paled Leo's face and Thomas turned away, unable to look at the same expression that stained his own face. That look was quickly replaced on his features when he caught sight of not one, but both of Leo's sons with him. Ecstatically relieved, he reached for Wyatt and practically danced around the young man. "_Wyatt! You — you're safe!_" He hugged Wyatt to him in his excitement while Wyatt had looked over the Elder's shoulder at his brother with a look that was all but a warning to keep his mouth shut. "_Thank God! I thought you were lost to us, too._"

Leo searched the faces of the two of them with confusion, his berating of Chris seemingly long-forgotten. "_Why would he be lost to us? Wyatt, what is he talking about?_"

Bravely and loudly, Chris answered the question for him, not caring what the consequences were going to be. "_Because he led Them on the raid, Dad. He's the only one who made it out of there alive. Go ahead, big brother; tell him why._"

Wyatt masked his face with complete innocence as his father had stared at him. Only Chris would have known what that look meant, but that was the important part. Phoebe knew that the look was meant just for Chris. The others wouldn't have known, couldn't have known. "_It was really terrible,_" Wyatt said throatily, as if he were next to tears. "_I know I was supposed to be watching Chris, but a few of the others came to the safehouse and asked me to go with. They thought They needed all of the extra power They could get. Chris promised me he'd stay hidden, so I went with. When we got there . . . Dad, it was so awful. We all believed the demons when they said they wanted to be rid of the Titans as much as we did. I trusted them. We all did. But when we got there, it was a trap. They had double-crossed us and made a deal with the Titans to wipe us all out. I tried to fight, but They ordered me to go. They said I was too important to risk any further. Dad, I'm so sorry._"

"_LIAR!_" Chris shouted at his brother, forcing all of them to flinch, including himself. He couldn't believe he had actually called his brother out in the first place, but he was only making it worse because he just couldn't keep his mouth shut this time. He knew he'd regret it, but he confessed, "_I was there, Wyatt. I followed you. I saw you! The only double-cross there was —_ "

"_You were there? What were you thinking?_" Leo turned back to his younger son, his face even more furious than it had been before. "Y_ou are half Elder. Wyatt is safer, even being the Twice-Blessed from the prophesies, because he is part Whitelighter. You know there is a difference. You have powers that he isn't going to have because of who I was at the time that he was born compared to you. He may be more powerful, but you are in much more danger than him. You can't just come out of hiding whenever you feel like it!_"

Sheepishly, Thomas put a hand on Leo's shoulder to catch the other Elder's attention. "_This is a family matter, Leo. I'll be Up There when you're ready to proceed._"

Leo nodded in agreement and sent the Elder orbing away without taking his hurtfully concerned eyes from his child. Phoebe could feel it. The look on Leo's face had Chris feeling terrible for worrying his father like that. It was hard to be under that look as angry as the angel was. "_Chris, do you understand why I'm upset? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if the Titans had been able to get their hands on you? You wouldn't have lived long enough to know what they could do with your powers. Do you have any idea how afraid I am of that every single day?_"

Offended that the man had the gall to suggest that it was out of concern for him that he was yelling, Chris fired back. "_Please! That isn't because you care about me. It's because of your precious brotherhood Up There. You know I'm a weapon against you. It has nothing to do with caring about me because I'm your son. Don't try to dress it up as concern when I know better. If you cared that I'm your son, you would be hearing me right now. I am not the danger to you. Keyser Söze over there is_."

Leo's anger dropped from his face, only to be replaced with complete confusion. "_What are you talking about?_"

"_The Elders' precious prophecy? The one about the Twice-Blessed child? I've seen the thing, Dad. It said he could go either way. It never said what side of the battle he would end up on. Now we know. It was a set up, Dad, a very elaborate, perfectly planned set up. The Titans were never going to make it out of that chamber alive, but neither were the Elders. They never had a chance, not against Wyatt and the pack of demons that were taking orders from him to take everyone out. They never had a chance._"

Seemingly terrified suddenly that something had happened to his child's mind when he'd been lurking about during the slaughter of a raid the others had been on or during whatever it was that had destroyed the safehouse, Leo cautiously took a step toward Chris. At least, that's what it had looked like to Chris. The father's hand reached out to his boy, but Chris backed away before his father could get close enough. "_Chris? Honey, did something happen at the safehouse? Are you okay? Are you hurt?_"

Devastated, Chris looked over his father's shoulder to where his brother had been watching the scene and smirking with satisfaction. He hadn't looked away from his brother's suddenly unfamiliar eyes when he sadly said, "_You don't believe me._"

Leo turned to his eldest son, pain in his every move. "_Wyatt,_" he asked. "_Can you take your brother some place safe for me? I'll catch up to you in an hour or so, then we can try to sort this out there. We can't do anything here, whatever's happened to him._"

"_Sorry, Dad,_" said Wyatt, his innocent face back on cue. "_I really don't have time to babysit right now. The chaos —people are waiting for me. I have a job to do._"

"_Yes, you do_," Leo argued incredulously. "_Your job is to take care of your brother for me. You know he's your responsibility, Wyatt. What's going on Up There and down here doesn't change that. I don't have your power. It's up to you to take care of him because I can't. I _cannot_ protect him the way he needs to be protected. Please, Wyatt. He's your brother. It isn't so much to ask. If your mother were here, you wouldn't have thought to argue the point at all. I may not be her, but I expect you to still remember that I'm your father, and I am asking you to do something for me. Nothing is more important than protecting your brother._"

Oddly distant, Wyatt's only response had been, "_I really don't have the time._"

Phoebe could feel how the sick had struggled through the tightness in Chris's throat. He wanted to deny it, but it was right there. He'd seen the change. He knew that look on his brother's face. He had seen it only a few hours before when the Elders had first walked into the trap that had awaited them. He didn't have to jump very far to find a very unpleasant conclusion. His eyes flashed between his brother and his father arguing over which one of them loved him enough to actually spend any time with him. Laziness shaped Wyatt's shoulders as if he was arguing only because it was amusing him. That was when Chris knew for sure that Wyatt was gone. That amusement was the only reason Wyatt was bothering with his father at all. Swallowing the bile back behind his tonsils, Chris urgently interrupted, "_Wyatt. Stop. He's not a threat. Let him go._"

In what, in Phoebe's eyes, looked like a father honestly fearing for his baby's sanity, Leo pulled Chris tight to him before his son could pull even half an inch away. He clenched a chunk of Chris's hair, as if he could hold whatever was slipping out and away from the boy in with just his hand. "_God, what happened to you? Whatever it was, you have to tell me what they did to you. You aren't making any sense at all._"

Under any other circumstance, Chris would have welcomed this display of affection and concern from his father. It was worlds beyond the '_Hide him, I don't want to see him out in the open_' mantra that he had heard from Leo ever since he could remember. If only it had come at some other time when Chris had needed to hear it instead of at that moment when it was the last thing he wanted to hear. Hearing it now meant that Leo couldn't hear him at all or didn't want to. Chris was furious with him for that. Phoebe could feel that, even as he was sitting there on the bridge with Leo during the original part of this memory of his, he had still been carrying that anger with him. It was nauseating. Phoebe felt her beloved nephew's heart breaking into millions of irreparable pieces as he pushed himself angrily out of his father's embrace. Tears blurred his vision as he pleaded, "_Dad, please, get out of here. Go._"

"_Stay_," Wyatt countered.

"_You can let him go, Wyatt_," Chris tried to negotiate. "_No one will ever have to know. He'll disappear. I'll make sure he does. Just let him go._"

"_You know I can't. He's one of Them. He's part of it. You don't understand right now, but I can't let any of Them live, Chris, not even him, not after what They've done._"

Leo had been watching the exchange between his sons as if watching a vigorous tennis match. He suddenly stopped dead cold when he heard the snarl in his son's voice, something Chris knew he had never heard before. "_What?_"

A triumphant grin took over Wyatt's face, the checkmate that he'd been working toward for the last few years finally a reality. He owed it all to his father, and the man's blindness for his family. "_You know, Chris would have done anything for your approval, Dad. He didn't want your protection or your rules that were for his own good. He wanted you to just know that was alive. He wanted his daddy, not an Elder who watched him from as far away as he could be and still see._"

"_I didn't just watch_," said Leo defensively. To Chris, he said again, "_I don't just watch._"

"_You don't know anything about him,_" Wyatt retorted. "_You made all of what's happening now possible. You left me alone with him. All those days, just the two of us hiding out from the big scaries of the world that you brought us into, he had no idea what I was planning for him. But it was okay because I'm his big brother and could take care of him while you were too busy. You did this to him. He knows what's happening, even if you haven't figured it out yet. And you did it. You did it to Them. You did this to yourself. You should have loved him like I do._"

The feral yell Leo let out as he charged his older son was drowned out by Chris's terrified scream. "_DAD! NO!_"

Chris had wanted to close his eyes. Phoebe tried to will him to. Instead, his still-tearing eyes remained riveted on his only remaining family. Wyatt almost playfully took his father's punches, laughing at the angel as he swung away. Chris knew that Leo never saw the fourth person shimmer in. He never saw the dark-haired woman come up behind him. Chris hadn't seen her right away either and started to move in too late as she produced a black arrow from thin air. Chris tackled her anyway, even though he was two footsteps too late. The arrow, unmistakably of Darklighter construction, had plunged directly into Leo's heart. Even as Chris and his father's attacker tumbled to the steel under their feet, she shimmered back to whatever hell she had come from, out from under Chris's strangling grasp. He landed hard, jarring his teeth, but quickly rolled and sprang to his feet.

"_DAD!_" Chris dashed over the physical distance between them, hoping beyond hope to catch his father in time. The look of utter terror for his children was still frozen on Leo's face as he fell back into his boy's arms. Under the leaden weight, Chris's knees buckled, toppling them both to the ground. Ignoring the shooting pain in his tailbone, Chris cradled his father's head and wiped his hand over the angel's brow. His eyes stared into his own, seeing just how much his mother had been right whenever she'd said that their eyes were exactly the same. He hadn't had his father's time, but he'd had his eyes.

A sharp kick in the head tore Chris away from his father, leaving lights blaring in front of his eyes mercilessly. He shook his head to clear them but it only made it worse. Forcing himself to his hands and knees, he mistakenly lifted his head. He caught sight of his father, the arrow Chris knew he couldn't dare to touch to save his father entering his back and completely protruding through on the other side, the strongly poisoned shaft stalling the angel's heart forever. He hadn't even had time to speak. Chris wanted desperately to tear his eyes away but was unable to. All he could do was stare and Phoebe with him. It wasn't until she felt Wyatt pull them up by a painful handful of hair that Chris was able to blink his eyes away.

As Wyatt reared back with his fist, he said, "_He never loved you, Chris, not like I do._"

Chris took the blow that bloodied his face without care. It wouldn't matter. They had lost. The Titans were gone, but the Good Guys had still lost. Everyone he had ever trusted . . . He suddenly didn't know where the sides were. Darkness started to cloud even his will to live when, suddenly, he found it in two very simple words.

"_Join me._" Surprisingly sincere after just smacking his brother around, Wyatt stood his brother up and held him by the shoulders. He earnestly searched his brother's face for any semblance of understanding what he was asking. Cheerfully, he started, "_Think about it. You'll never have to hide from anyone ever again, Chris. No more basements with fairies fluttering about keeping you awake all night. No more jumping every time someone knocks on the door. No more running. The magical world is ours for the taking now. I can teach you all of the things he never taught you. Come with me, little brother._"

Slowly, Chris backed away from his brother. Phoebe felt him shiver and was actually angry with him for taking so long to do it. She wanted to yell at him to wake up, to snap out of it, to do something, anything that she was used to seeing him do instead of actually sitting there listening to this insanity that she was hearing from her other nephew. When all he did was back away from Wyatt enough to get back to Leo and kneel beside him, she thought she was going to explode. What the hell was he thinking? He should be trying to escape, not hanging around listening to the guy Chris had told them more than once as a maniac. What was wrong with him?

Chris knelt down behind his father once again, pulling the man close to his chest. He was furious with his father for not hearing him, for not giving him the time he needed, but Leo was still his father. He didn't deserve to be betrayed like this. None of them did. He looked defiantly up at Wyatt, hugging his father as he asked, "_How long has Lissa been working for you?_"

"_Chris, be careful. You can't touch that. You know that. You'll be dead before you hit the ground. Please, put that down._"

"_That, as you so eloquently put it, is our father. I — Don't play games with me, Wyatt. How long have you known you were going to do this?_"

Wyatt crouched down on the other side of their father, training his no longer bright blue eyes on his brother's tearful green ones. "_We don't need the Elders. All They ever did was hold this family back. Forget what They've done to Mom and Dad. All of Their rules kept us from being who we were meant to be. There are things that I can't tell you right now, but in time you will understand why this had to happen. The important thing is, we don't have to be afraid of ourselves anymore, Chris. It's over. Now please, let's go. It's late and it's cold._" Wyatt stood back up and extended his hand down to help his brother up. "_Let's go home._"

The younger of the brothers rose on his own, watching his brother's extended hand the entire time. Then, slowly, he started backing away, not even sure what he was doing yet. He watched the confusion on Wyatt's face growing and was almost sad. He knew then he was looking at his brother for the last time. He was making a decision that would force Wyatt to kill him if they ever saw each other again. He knew. Then, before he could change his mind, he took that last step before he'd fall over the edge of the bridge beam. He stopped, only to see his brother for one last '_Goodbye_'.

Phoebe could feel that it was a struggle to do it through the haze in his brain, but Chris telekinetically pulled his father to him and slung the angel's arm over his shoulders, never taking his eyes from his brother. Gently sad, Chris told him, "_You are not my brother._" With that, he backed himself and his father off the bridge. As they were free-falling into orbs, Phoebe heard Chris thinking what Leo had said that night on the bridge when this memory had flashed for him, pulling them both back into the moment that was slowly killing Chris with every word. "_So maybe you came back from the future not just to save Wyatt. Maybe you came back to save us, too._"

"_I doubt it_," Chris achingly retorted before brightly orbing away, unceremoniously dropping Phoebe back into the moment she was meant to be in, blinded by even brighter orbs in her eyes.

"You had better be right about this," Piper grumbled as the orbing lights faded and plunged her concerned face back into darkness.

"It's going to work, " Paige insisted. "Just relax."

Phoebe turned her head and looked up at Piper and Paige standing over her, both clearly unhappy. As if she had no idea what they could possibly be looking so angrily at her for, she shrugged and asked innocently, "What?"

Snippily, Paige asked, "What? You thought you would just sit this one out?"

_As if I had any choice in the matter_, Phoebe thought to herself. Knowing she couldn't exactly say that out loud, she muttered, "You guys looked like you had it under control, and I figured that if too many of us were in Christopher's face, it was just going to make it worse. The guy needed breathing room if he came up here, and if I had joined the circle, his air supply would have been cut off."

Paige glared at her sister. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest but didn't say anything. She knew that with the look she was giving Phoebe, she didn't have to.

Piper, on the other hand, seemed to hear Phoebe's excuse as honest. She thought about it for a moment then let her stern face drop. "Thank you," she said. "That was thoughtful."

A relieved grin plastered itself all over Phoebe's face. "Anything for my boys." Quickly, before Paige could interrupt, Phoebe asked, "So what's the plan now?"

"Leo and Christopher are going to go back to the house and hole themselves up in one of the bedrooms with Dad. Christopher needs to get some stuff off his chest and feels better talking to them right now than he does to all of us. If that's really what he needs, then I don't mind at all . . . much."

"And the rest of us," asked Phoebe.

"Paige will take us back, and . . . and then we wait, I guess."

Phoebe tried to hide her nervousness as she glanced at Paige, who was standing slightly behind Piper's shoulder. Just as expected, there was a very dark, angry look on the youngest sister's face. It actually made Phoebe flinch inside. She had to concentrate to keep from sounding as nerve-wracked as she felt when she agreed, "S-sure. Then let the waiting begin."

Piper looked over her shoulder at Paige, who stepped in between her sisters without question. She held her hands out to meet the inside hands of them both, ready to take off for home. Before she did, though, she pulled tight on Phoebe's hand, nearly crushing it. She yanked Phoebe closer to her and whispered angrily in her ear, "You fix this, Phoebe, or I'm telling Piper in the morning."

"Working on it," Phoebe whispered back.

"And that split lip you have says you need to work harder."

Utterly surprised, Phoebe licked at her lip, tasting pennies in the back of her throat. She swiped her sleeve over her bloody nose and lip and stared at it as if she had never seen blood before. Confused and somehow exhausted, she shook her head, the answers not as forthcoming as she had hoped they would be. She carefully averted her eyes from Paige's as Piper tiredly waved over the city. "Home, Jeeves," she commanded jokingly as the three of them vanished from sight in a hail of blue orbs.

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	6. He Is, They Are

**Chapter Six  
He Is, They Are**

**I.**

"Caffeine," Piper begged as she stumbled through the kitchen door, her eyes shut against the bright orange glow on her counters that she wished wasn't there. As Paige handed her a cup that she must have started filling as soon as her sister hit the stairs, Piper slurred tiredly, "I am too old to have seen this many sunrises from this side in a week."

"Drink up," Paige ordered in a much softer tone than she'd had in quite a while. She almost sounded as unhappy with the rising of the sun as Piper was. "We're going to need it, I think."

Piper shook her head in that Big Sister way she had and argued protectively, "No, what you need, Missy, is a good night's sleep. Or day. Whatever. You need to get some rest. You've been running on empty for at least the last week. You really should take the day off and rest up."

"Honestly? I'd like to, but I don't think that's going to be an option," said Paige.

"What makes you say that?"

The youngest sister wrapped both hands around her mug and trudged over to the table, plopping down in the seat in near exhaustion. She looked up at her sister in confusion, not really sure how to explain what she was thinking. "I don't know. I just have this feeling, like maybe something big is about to happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it. I've been feeling it for the last few hours since I came out of the spell."

Piper sat down in the chair opposite her sister, somehow happy to have her mind working on something other than what she knew was going on elsewhere in the house. "Do you think it's something we need to be worried about?"

"I don't know," Paige shrugged. "I know that the couple of times I've had feelings like this, they've turned out to be right, like with Cole and the Titans. I know that when I do get them, Leo has always told me that I need to trust them. I have no idea, though, what this one means or why I'm having it at all. The only thing I can tell for sure is that something is off, horribly off."

"Well, then, I guess we're going to need another pot of coffee."

"Please tell me I just heard the word '_coffee_' come from this room, and say that there is a lot of it," Phoebe demanded from the doorway, looking just as weary as her sisters. Her head drooping low from the lack of sleep, she followed the same path as Piper. She stumbled along to be greeted by the warmness awaiting her on the counter, then trudged directly to the table where she sank into a chair like she had just run the New York marathon, twice. She grumbled and groaned along the way, her muscles protesting even the strength it took to cross the room.

Piper was almost amused as she watched her sister's nose sink into her cup. Chuckling, she said, "You look like hell."

"Hi, Pot, nice to meet you. I'm Kettle," Phoebe retorted, still staring down at the swirling liquid in her hands. "We're getting too old for the showering method. It just doesn't work like it used to. I still can't keep my eyes open."

"Speak for yourself, Granny," Paige told her, bright as the morning sunshine. "It still works on me."

Phoebe tore her stare away from her coffee mug long enough to glare at her baby sister, who looked to be too awake for the week she had had. "Are you sure we broke that spell?"

"Yes, Phoebe, the spell is done," Paige snipped. "I'm having one of those mornings where it would be a lot easier to wake up to a bottle of Woodford Reserve, but otherwise, I can handle the sunrise a lot better than either of you. I'm fine. I'm just not as old as you."

Just as Phoebe was getting ready to find some clever reply, a sparkling of blue orbs appeared in between them, slowly forming a very tired Leo. Instead of attacking her sister, Phoebe muttered into her coffee, "Speaking of '_old_' . . . "

When fully formed, Leo shot his sister-in-law a look to the back of her head that, if she could see it, would let her know he'd heard her perfectly loud and clear but was choosing to ignore her anyway. "They're still up there? I left almost an hour ago."

Piper pulled her chair around to make a little more room for her husband-not-husband at the table with them. "Still up there," she confirmed. "So take a load off. We could be here a while."

Paige looked up at the ceiling, even though she knew she couldn't see through it and would be seeing into the wrong bedroom even if she could. "What do you think they're doing up there?"

"They're probably sleeping, like normal people do," Piper grumbled. Leo responded by reaching his hand back behind her neck and holding it in that perfect spot that she loved, the one that was just as good as a massage. She rolled her head back and grinned happily. "Hmm . . . I knew we kept you around for a reason."

"Yeah — Full Service Whitelighter," Paige mused. "I could get used to that again."

"Couldn't we all," hinted Piper, knowing that Leo would know exactly what she was thinking with the way she'd said it.

The sentiment was lost on Paige, who had no idea what sort of conversation had gone on between her sister and her husband the night before. She was thinking of things in her own context. Wickedly, she grinned at him and teased, "You know, _Sun God_, I have this crick . . . "

"_'Sun God'_? Eeww. Stop right there," Phoebe growled. "I have no idea what that means, but I have the feeling I don't want to know. That sounds . . . Eeww. Awful. Put that mental imagery back where it belongs in the gutter, please."

Paige was about to find something in her little bag of sarcasm to toss back at her sister when the two younger sisters realized at the same time that Phoebe had just made a huge mistake. She had carefully concealed her face the entire time she'd been in the kitchen, but in the interest of a much needed sisterly banter, she had taken less care and raised her head to look directly at Paige. She had looked up and revealed to Piper and Leo exactly what she didn't want to. Phoebe and Paige both opened their eyes wide as they realized her mistake, just as Piper hitched in a breath to ask what was on both her and Leo's minds.

"Phoebe? What in the world happened to you?"

Not exactly wanting to go in that direction at the moment, Phoebe shrugged it off. "You should have seen the other guy."

Leo immediately shoved himself out of his chair and moved to his sister-in-law's side, kneeling in front of her. Before she could do anything about it, he reached up and took her chin into his hand, gently turning her bruised cheek to him. It had turned a viciously angry purple, making Leo wince in sympathetic pain. The cut in the middle of it was still very slowly bleeding, but only enough that he had to look hard to notice it. The cut in her lip was cracking open and bleeding further whenever she moved her lips, so that the blood mingled in her coffee with every sip. Worried, Leo let go of her for a moment and asked, "Why didn't you come to me? I could have healed this as soon as it happened. _What_ happened?"

"I didn't want you to worry about it," Phoebe said, again passing it off as no big deal. "You guys have enough to worry about right now without me getting into fights. It was nothing. I'm fine. It looks a lot worse than it is."

"Well, it looks pretty bad to me," Piper argued with her Big Sister voice. "Who were you fighting with? If there were demons, you should have called. I know you are still Super Witch, we all do, but you don't have your active powers anymore. You can't go around chasing demons with nothing more than potions and spells without any kind of backup. What if something — something _worse_ — had happened to you?"

Phoebe winced in sharp pain as Leo reached up to heal the bruised cut on her face while she continued to protest her sister's worry. "Really, Piper, I'm fine. It's nothing for you to worry about. Things sort of got out of hand, but they can be fixed. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Leo argued, confused. He looked between Piper and Paige with concern as he explained, "She isn't healing."

Piper pushed herself out of her chair and came around to the other side of the table to join her husband and sister. Too annoyed with her sister's inability to understand her current limitations to be concerned quite yet, Piper barked, "What do you mean? Just heal her."

"I can't. Whatever did this to her, it's blocking my ability to heal."

"Are you sure it's her," Piper asked. "Or have the Elders decided some sort of punishment for you and taken your powers?"

Paige's hand slid down to her thigh, feeling the stinging reminder she had from a few hours before. Her fingers felt along the ridges of the gauze pad under the bandage, the one protecting her while she healed both there and in her heart. In her head, she wanted to applaud her decision to be a normal woman dealing with the death of her nephew — finally — but she knew it was really only sentiment that was putting her through that pain in her leg at the moment. Her mind made up, she softly offered to Leo, "I have a way we can find out."

Leo looked up at Paige, seeing the hurt in her eyes that only he could really know, if anyone could at all. "Are you sure?"

Ruefully, she said, "It's not like you can really heal the rest of me, right? I still have to do the hard part on my own."

Sadly, yet somehow still comfortingly, he said, "Yeah. You do."

"Then get to, Healer Man, before I change my mind."

Moments later, the gashes on Paige's leg were healed, to Leo and Piper's worry and Paige's dismay. As soon as her leg was like new, Paige looked at Phoebe, who stared back through the bruised face with a slight disappointment. She knew what would be coming next. Then again, she'd known it all along.

"Phoebe," Paige said warningly. She didn't even have to finish the sentence. She knew from the guilty look on her sister's face that Phoebe knew exactly what she was thinking and why. Still, if it would guilt her sister into admitting what was going on, Paige didn't care if she outed her sister or not. "Is this what I think it is?"

Piper turned on Paige for a second, not sure if she should be grateful or angry. "You knew about this?"

"I'm not sure," Paige said defensively. "I might know what it is, but I'm probably wrong. Because what I think it is can't possibly happen." She turned her glare on Phoebe, who was trying very hard to be invisible at the moment. "It can't, can it?"

"_What_ can't," Piper asked. "Would one of you please tell me what's going on?"

Phoebe stood up and backed away from all of them, even though she was forcing herself into a corner. Her hands pushed at the invisible barrier closing in on her as she asked, "Would you all just back off? I'm fine. It's nothing. It isn't anything I can't handle."

"Well, obviously you can't handle it or we wouldn't be talking about it right now," argued Piper. "How long has this been going on? Better yet, what is it?"

"She's — " Paige began, only to receive a deadly look from Phoebe.

"It's isn't anything. I've been trying too hard to make up for the lack of powers, that's all." Lying, Phoebe looked directly at Paige as she said, "I've been out trying to do too much. It just caught up to me in the middle of the night is all. I went out after you were in bed and —- There's nothing to worry about. I'm done chasing."

"That isn't good enough," Piper said angrily. "Our lives are dangerous enough right now, you know that. You can't go traipsing off in the middle of the night looking for something to fight when you don't have powers anymore. I hate to say that, but, god, Phoebe! What were you thinking?"

From the doorway, Victor's voice said above the quickly escalating scene in the kitchen, "I don't mean to interrupt . . . " He waited a beat until everyone was looking at him, then started again, softer. "I don't mean to interrupt, but Christopher is ready to come down, if you're ready for him."

Piper looked gratefully at her father, definitely appreciating whatever it was that Victor had done to talk Christopher down. "Is he okay?"

"Not really," Victor admitted with a shrug. "I don't think you can really expect him to be. The other Chris wasn't. These kids have had a lot to deal with. That isn't the point right now, though. He's calmed down and ready to come down to talk. He wants to talk to you alone first, Leo, but after that, he'll talk with all of you. He does, however, have a condition."

"Which is," asked Leo.

"He'll tell you whatever you want to know, within reason. He won't tell anyone if, when, or how they died in his past. He won't tell you about your future families, except to say that you have them. If you ask him legitimate questions that aren't about _Personal Gain_, he'll answer them to the best of his knowledge. If he says that he doesn't know the answer to any of your questions, it means he really doesn't know. If there is something he says he can't tell you, that's it. He won't even entertain giving you hints."

Leo looked at each of the sisters with an almost protectively warning gaze. Stiffly, he said, "I think that's more than acceptable, don't you?"

Only Phoebe looked reluctant to agree. "And if it's something we really think we need to know?"

"Considering that Christopher knows the outcome of it all, don't you think he's the best judge of that right now," asked Paige. Since coming out of the spell she'd wackied herself up with, she was feeling awfully guilty about not giving Christopher the time he should have had with her. She was going to find some way to make that up to him, and if being on his side right now was what he probably needed, then that was what she was going to do. "Let's just hear what he has to say, Pheebs, before you worry about what he _isn't_ going to say."

Still not convinced, Phoebe argued, "We tried that approach with the other Chris, but it didn't get us anywhere. He still lied to us whenever he wanted to."

"No, we didn't," said Piper. "We never gave him the opportunity to just talk. We always had questions for him. If you look back on the kinds of things we asked him, I'm starting to think we were setting ourselves up for the secrecy and lies." She looked to Leo, who nodded back at her with an approving grin. She maybe hadn't really apologized to her son for their argument the night before, but she had at least learned her lesson from the experience. Mostly to Leo, she said, "If we let him just say what he needs to, we'll probably learn more than we ever learned from the other Chris. If it will make him feel better, we have to give him the ball."

Victor looked between his two girls, looking for an answer either way. "So what do I tell him? Yes or No?"

Without giving Phoebe's hesitation a chance to take the opportunity away from the rest of them, Piper nodded sharply. "Terms acceptable. Let me get the kids cleaned up for the day. We'll meet down in the sunroom in an hour. I think we could all use the wake up time." Her father nodded as well then turned without a word to head back upstairs to deliver the message, but she stopped him with an extra quick instruction. "Tell him the coffee's hot, and there's plenty of it. It's going to be a long morning."

Seeing Piper then whip around on Phoebe, Paige offered up her services as quickly as she could. "I'll go get the kids, Piper. I'm already ready for the day anyway. I have a feeling that the sooner we get Christopher started, the easier it's going to be on all of us."

Without taking her eyes off her middle sister, Piper smiled at the other. "Thanks, honey. If you need anything, holler."

"Will do," said Paige, skipping off down the hall just to show just how awake she was.

Piper's expression went wintry once Paige was gone. She knew she had the most uncomfortable stare in the family. She got it from Grams and knew perfectly well how her grandmother had used it. As expected, Phoebe even tried to get out from under it, but Piper just followed her sister around the room with that glare. She got her infinite patience from her mother and was using it to the best of her abilities at the moment. She waited for Phoebe to acknowledge the fact that she obviously knew she was in trouble for something, but it didn't come. Phoebe just kept dodging her sister's eyes, as if that would make it go away. Finally, Piper broke because she had things to do and say and couldn't wait forever. She warned, without any pretense of allowing wiggle room, "Don't make this hard for him, Phoebe."

Innocently, Phoebe said into her coffee cup, "I don't know what you mean."

"I'm not kidding. Don't you dare make this hard for him."

"I don't see what's wrong with us knowing as much as we think we need to know," said Phoebe defensively. She turned to look directly at her sister this time, willing to argue this one out. "All we know so far is what the other Chris has told us. Things that maybe this Chris didn't think were important may mean all the difference in saving Wyatt. We don't know for sure what happened between the two of them. We have no idea what Wyatt may or may not have done to this Chris before now. Things happen. Lies are told; memories blur. How can you be willing to risk only getting what he thinks is going to help?"

"Because I trust him," said Piper plainly. "Once we knew who he was, we trusted the other Chris. We understood his motives, whether we agreed with them or not. Based on what Leo saw when he went to the future and what I have seen since he got here, we can trust this Christopher, too. It isn't a perfect arrangement. There's no way that it could be. We just have to hope that it will all work out. I'm not going to doubt him when he's giving us something that the other Chris couldn't. He's trying, so I'm going to try, too. That's all. If you can't accept that, if you can't get on board, then I don't want you in the room, plain and simple."

Phoebe blinked at her sister in surprise but didn't say anything in return. She slowly set down her cup on the counter, trying to find words to say, but she couldn't form them. Instead, she walked out of the kitchen, once again carefully avoiding her sister's expectant gaze.

Breaking her calm, Piper looked at Leo, pointing dangerously in the direction her sister had vanished. "If she makes this too hard on him . . . "

"He'll be okay," said Leo reassuringly.

"Will he," she asked. "Or will he run out like he did last night if we push him too far?"

Seeing that she was still feeling guilty about the events of the night before, Leo got up out of his chair and crossed over to his wife. She didn't fight him when he put his arms around her, but he could tell that she was in no way ready to agree with him yet either. He pressed a kiss into her forehead then pulled away, keeping his hands braced strongly on her shoulders. "He's a lot stronger than you think he is."

"Really? Because it seems to me that, with a few exceptions, he's just about as jumpy as his other self. I mean, I remember twenty-five; I was nowhere near this single-minded at twenty-five. How much did he have to go through to be like this at twenty-five? Either of them? They both had had their whole lives ahead of them, but all either of them thought about is how to make right things that are in the past. I don't want to accidentally pick up on the wrong question and end up having to chase him all over the city again. I think he's a great kid. I do. I'm proud of who he has turned out to be. Even telling him that, though, seems to make him uncomfortable. I don't know how to make this work. He's had twenty-five years of being my son, but I have had all of, really, three weeks of being his mother. If we count the other Chris, I've still only had just under two years. I don't know how to be a mother to an adult. I still don't know exactly how to be a mother to a two-year-old. I don't know what he needs. How do I act? What do I say? How do I keep him together and still keep this family together at the same time?"

"Well, for starters, you don't have to keep him together," said Leo. "He's special, Piper. Wyatt isn't the only one. That isn't because of my half, either. In the entire Warren family line, not one of the men had witchly powers. Not one. Melinda Warren made sure that the powers would pass only to the women in the family. Yet, there they are, our boys, with powers beyond probably even her imaginings. They weren't supposed to happen, but they did. That alone proves that Christopher is a lot stronger than anyone wants to give him credit for. He said something to me this morning that I'm surprised hadn't exactly occurred to me before. We keep treating the situation like he's a little boy with a skinned knee, but he isn't a kid anymore. He's our child, yes, but he just isn't a kid anymore. When he came back here, he didn't stop being an adult. He _is_ an adult, honey. We're both trying so hard to be parents to someone who hasn't had them for a long time. That didn't change when he came here either. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't be his parents; it just means that we need to remember that he is perfectly capable of doing the same things that we have done. He's now older than Phoebe was when you three first came into your powers. We didn't treat her like she wasn't capable of handling herself."

"It's different," said Piper grudgingly, even though she was thinkingg that he was right. That didn't mean she had to agree with it. Christopher was her baby, no matter how old he appeared to be. "She's my sister. I didn't give birth to her. She wasn't born with the expectation that I would protect her from anything and everything for her entire life."

"He doesn't need your protection. He needs your help and your understanding. There's a difference."

"I haven't needed protection in a long time, Mom," said Christopher's voice from the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. "Don't get me wrong; a little warning when a fireball is flying at my head is nice, but I've been pretty good about protecting myself for quite a while now."

Both of his parents turned around to look at him, surprised. Feeling a little guilty for talking about him behind his back, Piper asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to know that none of you are wrong, even Phoebe," he said, circumventing his parents on his way through the kitchen. He shrugged, adding, "I thought I could smell coffee." He didn't give them an opportunity to say anything in response to his other comment. Pouring himself a cup that might as well have been a soup bowl, he asked, "So did you guys see the shiner she's got going?"

"She got into something with some demons last night," explained Piper, not at all happy about the return to that subject either.

"No, she didn't," said Christopher.

"She didn't," asked Leo.

"No, she didn't. When I was coming down here to meet you, Mom, I stopped by her room. Old habit. I tend to check everyone's doors at night to make sure they're all home. Phoebe was home. She was typing at her laptop and listening to that Flaming Lips CD she's had to buy three times because she keeps losing it. She was in her room when I came downstairs."

Piper's face turned a little redder with frustration as she mentally cursed the ceiling. "That doesn't give her enough time between when you came down and when she came to tell us about Paige to have left the house, fought a demon, and come back."

"Something's going on with her. I've been able to tell since I got here," said Christopher, oddly detached, as if he was talking about a complete stranger. Clinically, he told them, "I catch her looking off into space a lot. I have no idea what it is, but I think she's in trouble. I get the feeling, though, that she doesn't know what's really going on either."

"And you didn't mention this before because . . . "

Simply, Christopher said, "I thought I was the problem. You really should talk to her. Dad, I'll meet you upstairs?" With that, Christopher made his back across the kitchen toward the hallway, pausing on his way out only to tell his mother, "You don't have to rein her in. Whatever she asks, I'll handle. If she doesn't like how I handle it, that's her problem."

As her son disappeared down the hall, Piper muttered, "I don't think that was going to be enough coffee for him. That is what I would call '_a mood_'."

**II.**

A little over an hour later, the entire family was gathered in the sunroom, waiting patiently for Christopher to start talking. They had each taken up the various chairs and floor space in the room, leaving Christopher alone on the sofa. Somehow, he was radiating to everyone that he really didn't want to be touched at the moment. After talking to his father, he had accepted that, while he had his father's and grandfather's total support, he was on his own for this; the decisions were entirely his. His first decision was to know that he needed to be as alone as possible if he was going to get through it all. Hence, sole possession of the sofa. Of course, it helped that his grandfather was directing them all out of Christopher's way as they were coming in. In the end, the only one left standing was Victor, who stood guard in the archway between the dining room and living room, as if he could keep the secrets Christopher was about to impart from floating away into any room but the one they occupied. It seemed to make Christopher feel that much safer, so a guard he would be.

Christopher downed his third cup of coffee like it offered the same empowering effect of alcohol. He reached onto the table to where Piper had set up three pots and a little bit of everything else for their little conference, knowing fully well that he was stalling while he poured himself another cup. He couldn't believe he was going to do this. Maybe the other him had had it right when he'd kept everything a secret. He didn't know if he could take the looks that he was going to get every time he imparted something tragic or evil to them. It was hard enough knowing what their reactions had been the first time around whenever the other him divulged unwanted information. Maybe it would be better if he followed his predecessor's example instead?

Still, he knew without looking that there were expectant looks on all of their faces. He couldn't put it off any longer. Damn it all, anyhow.

He knew where he wanted to start, but he didn't know how to start it. He was, after all, breaking the rules in too many ways to count. He looked over at his father and grandfather, both of them smiling back at him with infinite patience and support. He nodded back at them then focused down on his hands, thinking that was the safest place to be looking at the moment.

_See, jackass? This is why Grams told you not to do this in the first place._

God, it was hard to believe that it had only been a week since the last time he'd heard The Lecture. Time seemed to be moving so strangely here, much slower than it ever did in his own time. The last ten hours had been dreadfully slow, making even starting this conversation more than just a little uncomfortable. At least Leo had even been right there to hear The Lecture the last time. He had promised that he would field questions if he had to. Apparently, Grams had made quite the impression on him, too.

_Time to soldier on, Buddyboy. You got yourself into this. No going back now._

Christopher started slowly then, still unable to believe he was really going to do this. "You guys never talked to us about this stuff, but Grams always taught us that we can't mess with time, especially the past, even though she wouldn't tell us why. I mean, we sort of knew '_Why_' — that part is sort of obvious — but she always said it particularly to me. She'd give me the evil eye, like she had it in her head I was going to be the one to cause trouble with time travel or something. I guess now I know why."

Before Christopher could go on, two questions came at him at once.

"Us? Who's '_us_'," Phoebe asked.

"You know Grams," asked Piper.

Already regretting that he'd promised complete honesty, Christopher had to bite back the impulse to use the '_Future Consequences_' line. For this one, he turned to his father, who smiled reassuringly, somehow knowing immediately why his boy was hesitating. Feeling at least some measure of comfort in the smile, Christopher answered, "'_Us_' is all of your kids. I won't tell you who has how many or what their names are or anything, but I guess it's safe to tell you that there are eight of us and we were all really close. We might as well have all been siblings instead of only cousins. Then again, no matter how many rooms you add on, all of us under one roof kind of didn't leave us much of a choice in that department. It wasn't only that, though. I would do anything for any of them, and they would for me. We're a handful and fight just as much as we get along, but we turned out okay, I think. You would all be proud of all of them. As for Grams, well, the same rules applied to us as apply to you. We were never allowed to call Prue or any of you after you died to come over from the ghostly plane when we needed help or to just talk or anything. Since you were allowed to call on Grams and Grandma, though, so were we." He was about to go on when he looked into his aunts' faces and saw shock. Confused, he asked, "What?"

"Are we–we _all_ . . . " Phoebe stuttered, not sure if she was feeling more sorry for the pathetic look on her nephew's face or for herself and the knowledge that she hadn't lived to see grandchildren.

A little more used to the idea that she died at an early age like the rest of the women in their long and illustrious family line, Piper finished for her sister, "I think she's trying to ask if they're both dead in your time like I am."

"Dad?" Christopher looked to his father again, not sure how to handle the answer to that question. Leo had been there in the future. He'd seen The Book of Shadows and knew that the Power of Three had been broken. He knew that the sisters were gone; it wasn't as if Christopher could lie to them unless Leo was a willing participant. Besides, if he told the truth, it was Leo who was going to have to deal with the girls every day for the next few years. His father was going to have to deal with their paranoia and fear as they wondered every morning if that was going to be the last time they woke up. He knew _he_ couldn't live with that. It was hard enough knowing the things he did. There was no way he could make that decision for his father. He just couldn't.

Leo seemed to understand what it was that his son was thinking. He'd been thinking a lot lately about what it must be like for this Christopher (and how it had been for the other Chris) to know all of the things that he knew and to have to carry that with him. What little knowledge he had of the future was hard enough to keep to himself. It must have been excruciating for the boys. Still, Piper had handled the news well. Maybe the others could, too. If there was any way to lessen the pressure by revealing this information, he was willing to take that chance. He nodded his understanding and urged gently, "It's okay, Christopher."

"Truthfully," Christopher said as emotionlessly as he possibly could without sounding cold. "Yes. The day I left to come back here, I . . . Of all of us, including you, your husbands, and your kids, only myself, Wyatt, and one of the girls are left, although how it ended up being the three of us, I really don't know. I can't tell you where or when things happen, but I will tell you that in spite of all of it, of the violence and the uncertainty, we grew up loving all of you very much . . . I . . . I'd love to be able to warn each of you. I'd love to tell you all about your deaths and how to avoid them, but I'm afraid that it could — If you knew too much, it might make you take too many risks in between now and then. I don't want to take that chance. I really hope you understand why."

Piper looked over at Phoebe, a certain knowing in her eye. As soon as she and Leo had parted ways in the kitchen, she had gone directly to the attic. Her frustration with Phoebe was easily settled, if she could find the right weapon against her sister, which she did. She handed her sister the Polaroid she'd been flipping in her hand, the one of their mother, young Prue and Piper, and fetus Phoebe. Remembering the note that Phoebe had thought about leaving their mother to warn her about her own death, Piper said pointedly, "I think that we both understand, better than you could possibly know."

Phoebe smiled at the picture (still her favorite picture of herself, if she did say so herself), remembering how torn she'd been meeting her mother for the first time and not having nearly enough time with the young, pregnant Patty. Reluctantly, she agreed, "Yeah, we do." Properly admonished for their earlier argument, she and Piper exchanged a brief look before she added, "Go on, Christopher."

The young witch nodded and thought about where next to pick up his story. When he found his place, he took a long, steadying breath and started in again. "Grams and Grandpa were against the plan to come here and did just about everything they could to talk us out of it. The more dire things got, though, the harder it was for any of us to find reasons not to do it. Grams and especially Grandpa always had a reason that they wouldn't tell us about, and it wasn't until I came back here and Dad told me about the other me that I knew what that reason was. Looking back on it, though, I don't think that knowing about him would have kept me from doing this. Saving Wyatt — saving us all — that was and always has been more important. I made promises. There are people back in the future depending on me to make things right."

Again, after a sideways look at Piper, Phoebe interrupted, "Not to be pushy, but what people? If all of us are dead, what people?"

"Wyatt, for one, even though he doesn't know it," Christopher said nicely, letting his aunt know that that one question was okay, but he definitely knew where she was trying to go with it. It was a nice try, but he knew better. "Our friends, the people in the city . . . They don't exactly know what's going on around them, but Wyatt isn't as careful as he used to be. Civilians are getting caught in the crossfire too often. He tried to keep it contained in the magical world. There really wasn't a point in trying to take over the civilian population of the city; he would have to take over the entire country in order to keep the power he had over one city. He knows that. The magical world is what he wants anyway. Even the Whitelighters are in hiding these days. I've been told that, even if I wanted Their help, it's impossible to get an audience with the Elders. Wyatt tries to dress it up as him trying to bring peace between Good and Evil so that we will all be safe, but we all know better. The '_protection_' he has set up on the house for the family isn't really protection. It's just to see what we're up to. Whether he believes it or not, he has to choose sides before someone chooses a side for him. It's making him paranoid."

Stealing a look at her toddler son in the playpen not ten feet away, Piper said hopefully, "So he isn't entirely evil yet in your time?"

"The other Chris's Wyatt was definitely evil by now," said Phoebe under Paige's icy stare. Quickly, the middle sister covered, "He told me when I figured out who he was from my vision. He wanted me to help him."

"Oh, no, he's evil," Christopher assured them. "He'll just tell you he isn't."

Leo nodded in agreement, looking at Christopher as he said, "He tried to tell me that he was never evil. He said that people were mistaking greater power for evil. I don't think he can even tell the difference anymore, not from what I saw."

"What did you see," asked Piper, hurt that Leo hadn't already told her.

"I already told you too much as it was."

Christopher knew without even looking that there was going to be a dark reluctance on his father's face. Leo had already stuck up for him earlier in the kitchen (and multiple other times in the last week), saying that he shouldn't have to say more than he was willing to. Able now to return the favor, Christopher warned, "Really, Mom, I don't think that's one of those things you want to know. I think that as long as you know that Dad had to see what Wyatt's really like is enough. At most, I'll tell you that except for Dad, Wyatt, and me, no one was left standing."

Piper's chin jutted out defiantly, her teeth clenching down on her tongue to keep from asking Christopher to clarify that last statement. She knew he wasn't going to. Unless he did, however, she didn't know that she wanted to believe it. Even though she had heard this all, for the most part, from the other Chris, she still didn't entirely want to believe it. That her child could grow up to terrorize anyone seemed such an impossibility, and yet . . . Chris returning from the future a second time was, in all reality, a pretty good indication that everything the two boys had told them was true. If that wasn't enough, someone besides Chris had now seen it as well. Her son really was going to grow up to be evil unless they found a way to stop it. Monitoring her tone to keep it from sounding angry with the son who was not responsible, she asked, "Do you know why?"

"Because he is, however and no matter how you want to spin it, stronger than the rest of us," Christopher admitted. "Fighting him isn't about winning. It's about just trying to get out of there alive and in one piece. Even coming out of a meeting with Wyatt with a broken anything is a victory these days."

"No, I mean, do you know why he is the way he is? The other Chris, he didn't know when he came back here. We didn't know until it was too late who was really after Wyatt."

Carefully, Christopher looked at his mother while he measured his words. "I'm not sure. I think . . . The dreams I've been having lately, I think they might be trying to tell me something. They're never the same, other than that Wyatt is always in them. He's never the same age. Sometimes he's a little kid; other times he's the way I last saw him last week. The only other thing that is always the same is this guy who hangs around him, whispering in his ears and gloating that you guys never saw him coming."

"You've never seen him before," asked Paige. "It isn't maybe Barbas?"

"No, I know Barbas. I've had my own run-ins with him the last few years since Wyatt changed. This guy is nothing like him."

Piper's face flushed with both anger and frustration as she asked, "Is he tall with kind of a pointy face and goatee? Does he maybe speak with an accent?"

Surprised, Christopher nodded. "Yeah. How did you know?"

Seething, Leo told him, "That would be Gideon."

"The Elder who kidnapped Wyatt, the one you killed?"

Softly, Paige added, "You forgot that he killed you, too."

"So maybe Wyatt saying that Gideon taking him had nothing to do with him being evil was a lie," asked Christopher. "He must . . . he must have known as soon as he remembered that Gideon had something to do with it."

Looking alarmed at her toddler, Piper asked, "Wait. He remembers? Even then, Wyatt remembers being taken by Gideon?" Still looking at Wyatt, she said helplessly, "But he's so small . . . "

"He didn't remember," explained Leo quickly. "At least, he said he didn't, not until he found out about it happening from Phoebe." He saw his sister-in-law's face fall and quickly jumped in to add, "He didn't say _how_. The way he said it makes me think that you didn't give the information up all that willingly. I don't think that he necessarily _remembers_. I think he just knows it happened."

"Until Dad and Wyatt mentioned the guy the other day, I had never heard of him," added Christopher. "I don't know any of the Elders by name. They've never been a part of my life."

"You have no idea why you've been dreaming about him," asked Phoebe, trying to get her mind off the thought that she was the one who had brought the memory back to Wyatt about his time with Gideon. It was hard enough being an adult and knowing about the sonofabitch. "You never knew his name or anything else about him?"

Christopher closed his eyes, seeing all of the dreams he'd had in the last few months with total but rapid clarity. He'd always had a near-perfect memory, even with his dreams, and could bring them up into his conscious mind whenever he wanted. Sometimes he didn't remember them right away, but they always came back to him with amazing clarity within a few days. Last night's was still a little sketchy, but the six straight before it were like crystal clear memories, along with all of them from the last few months. Seeing the nightmares fly past his mind, he said, "I know I'm dreaming about him for a reason, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I know I only see him behind Wyatt. Either I just hear his voice or he's right there behind him, but I've never seen him away from Wyatt. The older Wyatt gets, the closer this Gideon guy gets to him. They start saying everything together. It's only when Wyatt's little that he can say things on his own. I don't know what that means. Sam was the one who was good with dreams, not me."

Leo saw Christopher's eyes fly open as soon as he realized that he'd mentioned the name of one of his cousins. He also saw Phoebe's eyes widen with the information, along with her mouth, which was obviously opening to ask the boy who this Sam was. Jumping in for the save, Leo suggested, "Maybe it was just your mind trying to find a place to start? You yourself didn't know about Gideon, but it's possible you might have overheard us talk about him when you were little. I'm guessing that the subject probably comes up now and then in our futures, whether we know for certain that Wyatt is safe or not. We probably didn't know you were there."

"But how would he do that," asked Paige, who had always been curious in the back of her mind about her own ability to have a connection with the dream world. "He still wouldn't have known what Gideon would look like."

"No, he wouldn't," agreed Leo. Carefully, knowing that Christopher would want to object to what he was going to say next until he figured out that Leo was trying to protect him, Leo attempted to explain, "But he has a connection with the Elders that none of the rest of the family would have. The Elders are all genetically connected to him. The part of Christopher that is Elder probably already knew that he would someday know about Gideon. It probably gave him the image once he'd heard the name. He would just know."

"That still doesn't explain why he's popping up in Christopher's dreams now, though," said Piper.

Paige cocked her head to the side, her stare fixed at the floor as if she was trying to bring the answer to the question up out of the tiles. Her brow crinkled in curious concentration until she was finally able to put her own question to words. "I'm actually much more curious about what it is that Gideon is saying to Wyatt in the first place. Is it just a repeat of everything that he said to Wyatt that day? Is he just hearing all of that over and over, now that he remembers? Or is it something else completely different?"

Hearing his former friend's voice in his ears, Leo shuddered at the thought of ever having to hear that voice for real again. It was bad enough that he had to hear it in his own nightmares. He shook his head to get out of his mind what had once been a voice of comfort and was now a voice of terror for him. To Christopher, he asked, "Have you ever been able to hear what he's saying?"

"Nope. The only thing I hear is when he and Wyatt talk at the same time. Sometimes, I'm not even sure I'm hearing his voice. I think I just want to hear it so that I can blame somebody other than Wyatt. There are just . . . There are times when it's still hard to believe the kinds of things that come out of Wyatt's mouth, you know? But like I said, I'm not very good with dreams. I have no idea if it's me doing half of the stuff in them or not."

Thoughtfully, Piper said, "When we're done here, why don't you and Paige try to put your heads together on that one? She's the dream expert in the house. Maybe you two can come up with something you haven't thought of yet."

Nephew and aunt nodded at one another uncomfortably. They both knew in the backs of their minds that they had a lot more than his dreams to talk about, a lot more. Christopher could see that Paige was still pretty leery of thinking about the night before. He gave her a reassuring nod and smile that, once she seemed to understand them, washed relief all over her face. Without even having had the conversation yet, they both knew that they were going to be okay again.

"I have a question," Paige said, raising her hand shyly. When Christopher nodded his acknowledgement, she called for the snowglobe that she knew he had stashed in the bottom of Piper and Leo's closet. When it sparkled safely into her hands, she handed it gently over to Christopher, who looked at it rather wide eyed. They looked at each other again, both still seeming to be okay. To prove that she was, she smiled at him and said, "Still safe and sound, just as promised. It's obviously important to you, so I'm guessing it would be important to all of us if we knew what it was. No pressure or anything, but I'm thinking you'd feel better, too, if I just asked. So what is that thing? Why did you act like it was the Holy Grail last night?"

Christopher hefted the weight of the snowglobe into his hands, hugging it to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Softly he whispered, "_To Piper and Leo : A little something to remind you of just one of the many places you can go to find your love again. Love, Chris._" He laughed to himself, almost forgetting for a moment that anyone else was in the room. "It never even occurred to me that it was from, well, me."

Leo and Piper exchanged confused glances before walking over to join Christopher on the sofa. They sat on either side of him, Piper putting an arm around her son's shoulders. Leo slung one arm across the back of the sofa, embracing both his wife and son while the other hand gently reached over and turned the globe upside down to reveal an engraved sterling plate brandishing the words Christopher had just said to them.

"I don't believe it," said Piper sweetly, her words catching in her throat.

"How did he know," Leo marveled.

"I told him," Piper explained, her voice still on the brink of breaking. "It was one night after Phoebe and Paige moved out so Wyatt and I were alone in the house. Chris stopped by to check on us, or so he said. I think he was just really lonely. He asked about — "

". . . _the most romantic place you and Leo ever went_," Phoebe heard herself as Chris ask Piper. Suddenly she was no longer in the conservatory with the rest of them, but in the darkened living room with only the light of the television flickering over their faces.

Piper stiffened up at her — er, Chris's — side, but she didn't pull away, something that he hadn't felt her do before. Normally, if he asked anything at all personal, she would close herself off before he even finished asking his question. She hadn't that time, though. She even relaxed from her stiffened position after a moment. Her voice was actually a little nostalgic as she asked him first, "_Why do you ask?_"

"_It's kind of hard to find any place romantic to go in the city in my time. Most of the city is crumbling and in ruins. I was just wondering what it's like to have a place that you can look back on and be happy about._"

Piper turned to face him in the darkness then, her curiosity getting the better of her. "_But you had a fiancée. There had to have been something romantic between the two of you. She didn't look like the kind of girl who married for convenience_."

Chris chuckled at the thought. "_Bianca? No. She doesn't . . . She didn't believe in convenience. She said life was hard enough, and saddling herself with a guy was anything but convenient. But yes, we had a place. It doesn't look anything like it does right now, though. I've seen it now. It's much more beautiful now._" He stopped for a second, his hand in his pocket fingering the small ring that he'd kept there, even with everything that had happened. She was still his, no matter what had happened. She would always be there in his heart, where they were in love and happy. That wasn't going to change. He had hoped that the same was true of his parents, too. "_But we weren't talking about me. What about you and Leo? I'm sure that wherever you guys love to go isn't completely destroyed like ours is._"

"_Actually . . . _" Piper smirked. "_The most romantic date that Leo and I ever had, that place is long gone._"

"_Piper_," Chris started to protest, wanting to beg to remind her that she couldn't give up on Leo, not yet. God, he had made such a mess of things.

"_It gets destroyed every year,_" Piper said, obviously enjoying the subsequent look of confusion on Chris's face. Apparently she couldn't keep it up for long, though, because she softened and explained, "_It's made of ice, Chris. Leo took me to a winter carnival once. There were — _"

Phoebe shook her head, hearing somewhere in the back of her mind that Piper was explaining the same memory to the rest of them in the room. Her big sister looked so happy as she was telling the storybook version of what Phoebe already knew pretty much was a fairy tale in Piper's eyes that she almost thought Chris's memory didn't do her sister's happiness enough justice.

" — all of these ice castles and cottages that had running electricity and a horse carriage that was made of ice. It was all so incredibly beautiful. It was really cold, but completely amazing." Piper looked down at the snowglobe in Christopher's slightly shaking hands and smiled. "It looked exactly like this. Every detail."

Lost in a thousand memories, Christopher stared at it as well and said, "When you shake it, the lights come on, too."

Leo took the globe from Christopher and held it up to the light, shaking it slightly to get the effect his son had indicated. As the lights inside the castle and in the street lamps lit up, Leo's other hand felt along the back of the sofa for where Piper's hand was reaching for his. It had been a long time since either of them had thought of that night. It had been a magical one for the both of them. They looked behind Christopher's head so that their eyes could meet. In each other's eyes, they saw that they were both thinking the same thing: it had been far too long since they had thought of that place instead of all of the things that had come between them in the last year. It had been too long indeed.

Christopher reached for the globe again, needing to hold it. Unlike everything else in the house, it was a piece of his future. They hadn't even known about it until last night. This was a part of him, not them. It inspired their memories, but it _was_ his memories.

Seeing the three of them completely caught up in something that the rest of them weren't a part of, Phoebe tried to catch their attention and move the conversation forward at the same time. "It's really beautiful, but I still don't see what that means or why you reacted to it the way you did, Christopher. You acted like it was a lot more than just a souvenir."

"It looks so different," Christopher observed, ignoring everything his aunt said, excepting the '_beautiful_' part. He looked fondly on it, tracing a finger over the glass dome. Still talking mechanically, though, he said, "The last time I saw it, some of the shiny was worn off and the lettering had started to fade a little with age. There's an air bubble in the top and a chip in the base. It stays behind glass most of the time now, but we can still see it. It reminds us where we came from, I guess . . . among many other things."

Paige leaned forward, putting her elbows to her knees. The lack of sleep from the last three weeks was really starting to catch up with her, and if she was going to be of any good during all of this, she was going to have to try to take part in the conversation a little more. To the room in general, she said, "It's a sweet little trinket, sure, but I think I'm going to have to echo Phoebe on this one. It's more than just something to look at and get all weepy over. Christopher wouldn't have reacted so violently to it otherwise. He didn't know it was from the other Chris, either, so it couldn't be that. What's going on? Christopher, why did you freak out about this thing?"

"It isn't just a trinket. It's a key." Christopher glanced between his father and grandfather again, as if looking for reassurance that, in this case, they were in no position to give him. Whether or not he gave up this information was entirely up to him, and he knew it. It didn't seem all that relevant to what was going on now; it probably fit more into the _Personal Gain_ category than any other. They would work all of this out on their own with time, but maybe this was one of those times when it would be okay to break the rules anyway. Forcing the words out his teeth before he changed his mind, he quickly explained, "The snow gardens are a real place, or will be in your case and were in mine."

"'_The snow gardens_'? Is that what they called it," Piper asked Leo, unable to remember.

"No, not the place where you saw this for the first time," Christopher interrupted before his parents could confuse themselves and everyone else. "It's something different. It's something magic, magic created by you, with a little help from a few other magical beings. Wyatt and I named it '_the snow garden_' when we were kids. It was Sanctuary. When you're three years old, '_sanctuary_' is a little hard to say and even harder to understand, but '_snow gardens_' was easier, even if came out more like '_sow gawden_'."

Paige took the snowglobe from Christopher, getting her first up close look at it since the night before when she had still been feeling a little wacky. It was much prettier when spells weren't involved. She turned it around in her hands, trying to figure out how in the hell a relatively small ball of water on ceramic could possibly be as powerful as her nephew was describing. Knowing everyone else was wondering the same thing, she asked, "Sanctuary? What kind of sanctuary?"

Confused, Phoebe blurted, "There's more than one kind?"

Rather than acknowledge the silliness of the question, Christopher moved on and described the history of their place as best he could remember it. "Whenever we were in danger, there wasn't anywhere for you to take us to hide. I didn't know why until I came here, but you all had a horrible mistrust of the Elders, so you wouldn't take us Up There or to the magic school. Since they are the only two completely safe places that we know about where we couldn't be hurt permanently, you created a place for us, someplace that Evil couldn't penetrate. You went to the Valkyries for help in creating a place that couldn't be located by magic, just like Valhalla. You wrote a spell that could take us there and bring us home. When we were smaller, you used the Power of Three to give the snowglobe an extra power boost to make up for what we couldn't pronounce and power that we just didn't know how to access yet. It was also a safer way to make sure that the smaller kids stayed with us. We had a guardian there, a guy who would play in the snow with us and all that. It was the safest place in the world for us. It stayed that way until Wyatt destroyed it."

"_Wyatt_ destroyed it," Piper asked. "Why?"

"That's one of those things that I don't know. He wasn't exactly ready to share at that point. A lot of stuff had hit us all at once at the time. It seemed to hit him the hardest. By the time he snapped on the gardens, we had pretty much stopped talking. I didn't think there was much point in asking. It wasn't like I could bring the place back, even if I did know why he'd done it. There was a lot more magic involved there than I could ever get my hands on."

"And yet Wyatt was capable of destroying it, he had that much power," Paige asked. "How? Where did he come up with — "

"I don't know that either," said Christopher. "I know that he did it on his own. I saw him afterward, and it hadn't even exhausted him, not physically anyway. He . . . None of us even come close to him. Combined, we can't match his power. Charlie says that the only singular being They've ever seen with that much power was The Source, and you guys vanquished him years ago."

This time, it was Phoebe's turn to ask the question. She needed to so that it would drown all the pop up thoughts of any and all variations of incarnations of The Source from her mind. Quickly, she interrupted, "Charlie? Who's Charlie?"

"Their Whitelighter," Leo answered, looking at Christopher with reassurance since he knew the boy was going to look to him to see if it was okay to answer that question anyway. To his son, he said, "It won't hurt anything for them to know that."

Piper suspiciously eyed Leo. "If we don't have any contact with the Elders in the future, why would They assign any of the family a Whitelighter, especially after what Gideon did to Wyatt?"

Leo and Christopher exchanged glances, but it was clear that neither of them knew why. Christopher shrugged. "He was just there. Sometimes I wonder if he was actually assigned at all. He has been a perfectly safe choice for us, though, whoever did it. Really. He is just as good at breaking Their rules as you guys are. He only contacts Them when we really need it, not that They would help us anyway. Until Wyatt went all _Keyser Söze _on us, we didn't need him to. Charlie is . . . _was_ a good guy. He took good care of us kids." Thinking of Lucy and his nephew-to-be, he added sadly, "Sometimes a little too good, but he loved us, I think. He was family."

Hearing his son's voice trail off toward the end of his little defense of Charlie, Leo clapped a comforting hand on Christopher's knee. "He might be okay. They all might. We don't know yet what happened to them. They might be fine."

"Yeah, I guess."

Firmly, Leo said, "I'm not going to let you argue with me on this one. You did everything you could. Like I said, she was still alive when I left. He might not have hurt her any more than she already was. I couldn't get close enough to Charlie. He might still . . . "

"Your father is right," Victor said from his guardpost, unable to keep watching his grandson in pain without at least saying something. "They could all be okay."

"Thanks, both of you. I just — I don't want to get my hopes up at this point, okay?"

Piper crinkled her brow at her father then leaned forward over Christopher's lap so that she could clearly see both her son and husband. Calm but demanding, she said, "Yeah, hi. Remember the rest of us? What are you three talking about?"

Once again, Christopher exchanged looks with his father and grandfather, both of whom nodded to him, urging him to go on. Christopher shook his head, though, looking to his father. He had already told them once that he didn't think they should have to hear what Wyatt was really like. He knew that they were trying to help both him and themselves so that they could know where to start to help Wyatt, but it didn't really feel like help. It felt like being forced to relive things that only made it easier to give up on helping Wyatt at all. Somehow, he knew, though, that if he didn't go ahead and tell them, they were going to keep finding new and creative ways to ask him the same question over and over anyway until he told them what they wanted to hear.

Seeing the struggling hesitation on his son's face, Leo said, "It's up to you, but I guarantee you they're going to keep asking if you don't give them something."

Christopher slumped back a little bit in his seat, tired and starting to wear of thinking about any of this at all. There was no way that he was going to be able to tell this part of the story alone, especially with his grandfather standing very much alive only a few feet away. It was all still too raw for him. He looked at Leo with a sort of '_If I'm going down, then so are you_' expression. Clearing the way, he told his father, "I can tell what I know, but you're going to have to start it. You're the one who got there first."

Piece by piece, Father and Son told the story of the day of Victor's funeral and Leo's little excursion to the future. The only name they kept safe was Lucy's, who they called "The Bum", much to Victor's amusement. At first, Piper had seemed to still be perturbed by Leo's ignoring of her direct order to wait to decide what to do until they had returned from meeting Darryl, but the further along in the telling they got, the more she relaxed. By the end of the story, she was able to reach across Christopher to take Leo's hand and offer up the closest thing to an apology he was going to get for her anger.

"I'm glad you were there."

Phoebe wasn't entirely satisfied, however. She leaned forward and asked, "Of all the days you could have done this, what made you choose that particular day?"

"We thought it would be the safest for us," Christopher shrugged. "We knew he'd have extra security on the house, but we also knew that any magic detected was probably going to be considered a surge from having other magical beings popping by the house to pay their respects. Wyatt knew how close we were to Grandpa. He wouldn't have expected us to try anything when we were mourning. We didn't think he'd expect anything when we had a house full of people, either. It seemed the safest. I had my reasons for needing it to be as safe as it could possibly be."

"No, I get that part," said Phoebe. "What happened with Wyatt to make you think that it was time or that you had no other options?" Thinking back on the memory she'd witnessed the night before, seeing Wyatt kill his own father and knowing that that had been the last straw for the other Chris to begin formulating his plan, she had to wonder what Wyatt could have done to this Chris to make him take the same measures. "Was there something in particular that he'd done or someone that he had gone after?"

_Where should I start? Pick a relative, any relative. _Christopher had to bite his tongue to keep from letting go with such a smart ass answer that he knew none of them would like. He thought carefully on it until he finally picked the one he thought they would understand the most. Looking at his hands, he explained, "The last of the final straws came about five months ago. One of us, the girl we told you about, had a vision. She had a vision of me and Wyatt, fighting, up in the attic. She wouldn't give me all of the details, but she said that there were things that she could tell from it. She said that she knew that we were all gone. Wyatt and I were the only ones left. She said she could feel that he had finally taken over completely. He wasn't even Wyatt anymore, even that little bit of him that we both know is still there right now was completely gone. She said the last thing she saw was him standing over me with Excalibur, pulling it out of me. I have no idea what it was exactly, but it really scared her. The thing is? She doesn't have visions. That has never been one of her powers. She's pregnant right now, though, and we think somehow that the baby gave her the vision. It scared the hell out of her. That was when we decided for sure that we needed to do this. Those of us who were left at the time, we knew we had to do this before the baby was born. We made a pact that the baby wasn't going to be born in that world. From that night on, we started trying to find ways to get around Wyatt and to figure out how to make the plan work without getting caught."

"But you got caught anyway," asked Paige through an unintentional yawn.

Christopher nodded, yawning himself. "We didn't quite get out of there fast enough. At the time, I thought Dad was just being crazy trying to stop us, but . . . "

"All of that blood, then, it wasn't yours," asked Piper.

"A little bit, but most of it was hers," Christopher admitted. He hung his head sadly, wishing that his answer could have been a little less painful for him. He was grateful when he felt his father put an arm around his shoulders and pull him into his closest spare shoulder. He wanted to say "_Thanks_", but instead shuddered against the warmth. God, there was so much he wanted to change.

Seeing that his grandson had probably had to answer a few too many questions, Victor really stepped in for the first time during the entire conversation. Stern enough so that no one would argue with him, he said, "I think that's about enough for now. I think what we need to do at this point is start to figure out what we have to do from here on out so that we can give these kids the perfect future that they've tried so hard to make."

That elicited a small chuckle from Christopher. He raised his head from his father's shoulder, sniffling a little from both emotion and exhaustion. He cleared his throat and said, "I don't want perfect. Perfect isn't any fun. I want the fights and the stupidity. I want us all to say things we don't mean, just like any other family. But I can't have even that when we can't be together. I'm not trying to make a perfect future. I'm trying to actually give us one. We can't have the good and the bad without one."

"One squabbling family, coming right up," said Paige enthusiastically, even through another yawn. She called for The Book of Shadows, which orbed immediately into her waiting hands. She flipped open the cover to the very last page then placed both hands firmly on either side of the spine. "So, where do we start?"

"With more coffee," Piper groaned, just as she took a sip of her rather cold sludge. She leaned over and pecked a small, motherly kiss on Christopher's forehead. Into his ear, she whispered, "We'll fix this, I promise." She carefully hoisted herself out of the cushions then picked up the coffee tray as she announced, "I'll be right back."

A glacial chill and a chicken soup warmness went through Phoebe at the same time hearing those words. Before she could stop herself, she heard herself say, "You know, you're going to turn us all into caffeine addicts if you aren't careful."

Over her shoulder, Piper asked, "What do you mean '_going to_'? You were there years ago, Pheebs."

Phoebe didn't hear her sister's response, though. She was lost again in what Piper's response had been to Chris the day he'd said that same thing to her. To Chris, she had smiled and rolled her eyes. "_I'm sure you can find a way to forgive me._"

"_Yeah, but I won't_," sixteen-year-old Wyatt piped up. "_But thanks for stunting Chris's growth._" He said it almost distractedly, his concentration much more focused on the map in front of him. He scowled at it with an almost dirty expression before gathering it up into a ball and throwing it at Chris's head in frustration. He quickly excused the toss with a grumbled, "_This is worthless. Your turn. Merry Christmas_."

"_Gee, thanks_," Chris grumbled. He unballed the map and spread it out in front of him on the floor, his long legs framing either side of it and holding the corners down in the light breeze through the windows. He barely looked at it for ten seconds when he chimed in with his brother's unhappiness. "_This is so stupid. I don't even know what we're looking for anymore._"

"_That's the whole point_," Leo said, strolling in from the kitchen. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he asked without the least bit of innocence, "_So you haven't found anything yet?_"

Wyatt slumped in the corner of the sofa, his arms crossed angrily over his chest. "_But you knew we wouldn't._"

"_I did_," the angel admitted. "_We figured that if you two couldn't find it, then we had done our jobs. Your mother and I were going to sit down and have a talk with the two of you about it after the holidays, but it won't hurt to give you a quick overview now, I suppose._"

Phoebe could feel the curiosity getting the best of both her and Chris. He sat up straighter and his ears actually perked up a little, not wanting to miss a single word. Eagerly, he asked, "_What's going on?_"

"_We're still working out the kinks in the system, but we think we may have found a way to destroy the Titans_," Leo nearly whispered, paranoid that they might be overheard, even in their own home. The Manor was probably the safest place in the entire city with all of the magical protection they had been able to conjure up, but that wasn't an excuse for loose lips, either. They all had known that. "_And just so that we know that the two of you will be safe if things should go wrong when we finally make our move, your mother and I have had some help from some friends creating a safe house for you. We wanted to make sure that it was in no way traceable so that —_"

Wyatt quickly interrupted, standing back up and standing toe to toe with his father. Angrily, he protested. "_No way! You can't leave me out of this._"

Piper appeared at that moment, carrying another fully loaded tray of coffee and various snacks that were no more healthy than the coffee Chris had claimed to be so addictive. She tossed a knowing look at Wyatt before asking Leo, "_I take it you just told them?_"

"_You guys are not leaving me out of this_," Wyatt told her just as strongly as he'd insisted it to his father. "_You can't_."

"_We aren't,_" Leo said, looking almost too proud of his son's eagerness for Phoebe's liking. It was no wonder Wyatt had turned out the way he had. Leo even went so far as to suggest that they had known all along that Wyatt was going to insist on being involved in their plans. "_You will have a job to do. You just won't be right there at the front line. If things don't go well, we're going to need the two of you prepared to take over for us. This is going to take each and every one of us. You won't be left out; you're just going to be left for later._"

"_Left babysitting, you mean_," Wyatt grumped.

Definitely offended, Chris snapped, "_Hey! I'm sitting right here. And I sure don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself. I'm fourteen now._"

"_Only by twenty-nine days, eighteen hours, and twelve minutes,_" Piper teased, looking at her watch. With stern looks all around, she told them, "_I think this can wait until the plans are set in stone, anyway. We only wanted to give you two a heads up so that you wouldn't think we were keeping secrets from you, other than the usual Christmas ones. There are going to be a lot of late nights and really early mornings coming up over the next few weeks. We wanted you to be prepared. We can talk about this later. It's nearly Christmas. I can think of better things to do than worry about something that we can't fix today anyway._"

In Chris's memory, the next few minutes were blurry and almost seemed to be in fast forward. Phoebe was actually a little disappointed; she would have like to have seen a little more of what the family was like, especially Wyatt and Chris. They seemed to be getting along like normal brothers without any trace of the future that she knew laid ahead for them. Sure, Wyatt seemed a little overeager to help, but that was a normal thing for all kids his age. Sixteen didn't make him a kid anymore, but it didn't make him an adult, either. At that age, kids had a tendency to attempt to speed through the last few years of their teens so that they could actually be considered adults instead of just being told to act like one. That was probably all that his attitude had been about. Still, it would have been helpful for her to see more.

All of a sudden, Chris's memory went black, pitch black, almost like his memory was going to commercial or something. Then it was back to normal, but the sun had obviously moved. It was shining at an angle that told her that hours had passed. She had barely had enough time to register the change when his memory then flashed a brilliant white, blinding Chris's entire field of vision. It took her a moment to realize that the flash had been all too real and not just a hole in his memory like the blackness. It wasn't until she heard Chris remember his brother swearing that she knew that she was probably moving into a much more important part of his memory of that day. After the last few she'd experienced, she wondered if maybe he was trying to tell her something. Unfortunately, things started moving too quickly for her to know for sure.

"_What in the — oh, shit!_"

Phoebe wanted to tell her nephew to watch his mouth, but then she saw through Chris's eyes what they had all seen. She decided then that Wyatt had described the situation rather accurately that day and was allowed to say whatever he wanted.

The three Titans that Phoebe remembered having been freed two years ago had come out of the flash of light, joined by another party dressed similarly enough to let her assume that he, too, was one of them. The bitch that she remembered having turned her sister to stone had come in dangerously close to Wyatt. The one with the annoying voice, joined by the one she didn't know, had come in just in front of Leo and Piper under the arch between the sunroom and living room. The fourth, the one she remembered as being the only remotely attractive one of them all, had come in at the back corner of the room, farthest away from everyone else. The family had easily been, for all intents and purposes, surrounded.

Without warning, the room flashed white again, blinding everyone in it. There was no sound to indicate what was going on. It wasn't until the light fell away again that it became clear to her that it was merely a weapon to disorient the family as the Titans regrouped under the archway, the woman joining her cohorts with a sassy laugh.

The family, too, then regrouped. Piper and Leo backed up, each parent grabbing the arm of a child as they moved themselves away from the intruders. For every step that they took, though, the Titans countered with a step into the room. Apparently seeing the futility of their move, Leo and Piper stopped with their retreat. They pulled their children behind them, shielding them as much as possible from the Titans' direct view.

"_Going somewhere_," Cronus asked them almost pleasantly, even with that deeply monstrous voice of his.

"_Yeah, crazy_," Piper smartly retorted, just like their father had done to them so many times since coming back into their lives. "_Why? You wanna come with?_"

"_Certainly_," Meta answered. "_Wait right there. We just need to get our coats._"

With that, the room flashed again. That time, Piper took advantage of the situation as much as she possibly could. Even though none of them could see, she grabbed for the boy nearest her and pulled. Before Chris knew what was going on, he felt himself being pushed down to the floor on his hands and knees. He could feel that Piper was crouched down next to him, her hand guiding him with a tug on the neck of his sweatshirt. He was just about been ready to ask where they were going when his head ran directly into a table leg.

Piper reached down and covered his head, shoving him under the table. Urgently she whispered into his ear, "_They don't want us, honey. They want you and your dad. You have to stay hidden, no matter what happens. Understand?_"

Chris's throat gave his mother an agreement, but Phoebe could hear him thinking anyway. _Until you need me, sure._ Phoebe herself was thinking, _No matter what happens? Isn't that kind of like saying, 'I'll be right back'?_

"_Do not orb unless it is absolutely necessary. Now stay down._"

With that, Piper turned back to the rest of the room, which had plunged back into darkness with the lack of light. She let her hands go at it, exploding everything in sight. The more that she destroyed, the angrier she visibly got, complaining that she was going to have to repair and replace it all when she got the intruders out of the house, and right before the holidays. Angry at the intrusion on what was supposed to have been a nice family day, she started in on the Titans with a growl. "_Now look what you've made me do. At least demons give us a little more notice when they come over to visit. I wasn't done cleaning yet today, and I'm definitely not prepared for guests._"

As if she were just playing with Piper, Meta tipped her index finger at a row of potted plants near the farthest window. One by one, she exploded the pots, flinging clay, dirt, and plant roots all over the room like confetti. "_I don't mind a mess,_" said the Titaness with a satisfied smile. "_You should see my house._"

"_That's why you three should have just left the other nine to rot in Hell where you all belong. If you hadn't brought them all back, you could have had the house all to yourselves._"

Chris hadn't heard any further replies. In the corner of the room that had just been splattered with the remainders of his mother's miniature forest, a thundering cloud appeared. The wind surrounding it cycloned into a tall vertical tower, flashing lightning, until a body stepped out of it. During the only other encounter Chris had ever had with a Titan, he remembered seeing the guy move from place to place that way. Immediately Chris tried to shrink away, scampering further under the table.

It wasn't until Demetrius bent over at the waist and looked directly at Chris under the table that Phoebe even realized that he hadn't come back into the room out of the light like the others. A sadistic smile lit the Titan's face, sending chills through both Chris and Phoebe. Every instinct both of them had told them that he should scream for his mother, but the scream caught in his throat. Demetrius then straightened up and took very slow, deliberate steps toward the table. His voice was soft, almost sing-songy as he creeped closer, terrifying his prey.

"_Mommy's busy, little bird_," he taunted. "_Whatever will you do?_"

Chris's eyes immediately darted away from the feet approaching him, looking for his parents. He knew that neither one of them would be able see him where he had been hidden, neither would his brother. They were all too distracted by the battle waging in the middle of the room. He wanted to scream, but he also knew that to distract them could be even more dangerous for them. He was on his own. At least it was only one on one.

Just as Chris prepared to push himself up and out from under the table, the Titan's feet stopped directly in front of him. Before he could get far enough out of the way, Demetrius dragged him up by a handful of hair. The deceptively small Titan then held the boy up high enough that his feet couldn't touch the floor, even though Chris was sure he had grown nearly a foot in the last year. The boy tried to point his toes down at least to relieve the pressure on the back of his head, but couldn't quite make it. He struggled, only to the amusement of the Titan.

Announcing Chris's capture, Demetrius called out, "_I'm sorry. Did you want me to put this toy back where I found it or can we clean up the mess later?_"

"_CHRIS!_" Wyatt seemed to grow another six inches taller, his body stiff with nervousness. He looked right into Chris's eyes with a calmness designed to tell his brother not to worry. It was an assurance that Phoebe could feel Chris had readily believed. His big brother was going to get him out of this. Wyatt could get him out of anything. Wyatt almost lazily strolled up to the Titan holding Chris as if he was going to offer to buy the guy a cup of coffee. His voice was unnaturally soft as he ordered, "_Put my brother down and I'll let you walk out of here alive for today._"

Demetrius grinned back even as he snarled, "_Come any closer and I'll snap its fucking neck._"

While Wyatt didn't even flinch at the suggestion, Chris's heart had painfully skipped a beat or two. Phoebe could feel it. He was scared, really scared. He looked at his parents and saw that they were just as terrified as he was. The longer he hung there in the Titan's grip, the harder it became to concentrate on much of anything. It hurt enough that blazes of colors were shooting across his vision, whether he had his eyes opened or shut. He knew that as soon as he was dropped, if he alive when he was dropped, he was going to be leaving a nice handful of hair behind that would be replaced by the headache from Hell. All he could do was hang there. Trying to keep himself calm until his brother and parents could do something, he closed his eyes and fiercely kept reminding himself that he couldn't panic and run for the hills. '_Don't orb, don't orb, don't orb, they need you to orb so don't orb, don't orb, don't orb. . . _'

When Chris's eyes opened so that Phoebe was able to see what was going on again, she saw the mistake immediately. She knew that Chris had, too. Taking Chris out of the battle left the Halliwells one man short. One of them was going to have to take two at once with himself in the crossfire. The seconds it took his family to realize that themselves had been enough time for the Titans to realize the same.

Cronus acted first, raising his hands and sending miniature bolts of energy in every direction. Leo had to slam himself to the ground before he could in any way retaliate. He popped up as quickly as he could, releasing a powerful stream of energy bolts right back. Wyatt quickly sidestepped the dart intended for him so that he could be closer to his mother. He extended his shield, protecting her the best way he knew how. Cronus's second round was just slow enough so that when it reached its intended target, Piper was safely ensconced in the bluish shelter. The dart deflected off to the right, finding a new target in Meta. The energy shared between Wyatt's shield and the magical weapon was enough to speed the dart along, sending it crashing into her chest so quickly that even Cronus couldn't have done anything about it. The Titaness writhed and screamed for a brief moment while the rest looked on in shock. Then, without much flair at all, she was gone.

Taking advantage of the Titans' disbelief, Piper snicked her wrists at the arm holding on to her youngest son. She obviously knew that she wasn't going to do much damage to him, but thought it would at least startle him enough to let Chris go. As hoped, Demetrius dropped Chris, his arm pulling away in an almost human way with the sting of it. They both knew it was a bee sting to him compared to what that would have felt like to a demon, but she was obviously willing to take whatever she could get. A satisfied grin grazed her face as Chris thunked to the ground and scampered away from the Titan as quickly as his feet would carry him. To the Titan, she said, "_Four on three? I'll take those odds any day. Thanks._" To Chris, she added quickly, "_Take care of your brother. Other than that, do whatever you can._"

Chris nodded and ran for Wyatt's side, reveling in his surge of relief. The Titans hadn't taken him; things weren't going to turn out as badly as he'd feared for that split second or twenty. His parents had always warned him that he would be special to the Titans and couldn't risk being captured. He'd been terrified of what it might mean, but for that day, he knew he would be able to escape with only nightmares of what could have been.

As soon as he reached Wyatt, he turned his back so that his brother could feel their backs meeting. They had actually practiced this before because their mother wouldn't let Chris help out unless he was close to Wyatt. They had learned to feel each other's movements so that they could move as one, taking out demons from both directions. They both knew that there was no way that this was going to be that easy, but they had had a system that hadn't failed them yet. They weren't going to let it now.

The boys started immediately flinging things left and right. Wyatt's energy balls had become so much bigger and powerful in the last two years that he could actually inflict a fair amount of damage, even on the two Titans in front of him. Chris, too, had been working on his telekinesis and had managed to improve quite a bit. He was nothing like his aunts yet, from what he'd heard in stories, but he could at least get things going fast enough to distract, if not actually hurt.

Even to Phoebe, things were starting to look positive. The remaining Titans seemed to be taking quite a few hits. She knew that her family knew that they weren't going to be able to defeat them in the confines of the sunroom, but at least they could put a good dent into their ranks, enough to get them out of the house. They'd all live to do this another, better prepared day.

Then, out of nowhere, the Titan Phoebe knew Chris had later learned was Hyperion seemed to grow bored with the battle. As another flash of white hot light of his making burst through the room, he roared darkly, "_ENOUGH OF THIS!_"

Unable to see, they all had to rely on what they could hear or feel. While Wyatt pulled him protectively close, Chris heard all of the windows shatter in one large explosion that seemed to rock them all off their feet. He heard several other things smash or blow up, but he had no idea what any of them were. He heard his father swear, his brother echo his father's curse, and his mother outdo them both with a string of blue words that weren't in the least bit fit for the tender ears of children.

For a moment, it seemed like the Titans had just given up, taken their toys, and gone home. Phoebe could feel Chris's relief. She knew he had a little too much of the pacifist in him to want to keep fighting any longer than he had to. She and Chris both thought that Piper must have heard something that the rest of them hadn't, though, because she stage whispered an order to her men. "_Give 'em everything you've got then get out as fast as you can._"

The light falling away had been just as blinding as its appearance. Wyatt adjusted a little faster than everyone else, though. With one hand, he flung an energy ball toward Hyperion. With the other, he pushed Chris down to the floor. As soon as the energy ball was out of range, Wyatt raised his shield again and pulled his brother back up by the shoulder of his sweatshirt.

While he was on the floor, Chris took his eyes off the Titans for only a moment, doing a mental check of the exits available to them without orbing. At least, that was what he'd planned to do. Wyatt was the weapons guy; he was the strategy guy. That's how they'd always done it since Wyatt did, after all, have much more power behind him. His job as the strategy guy was to keep them all safe and have ways to get them in and out of every situation. That was and always had been the plan. As his eyes adjusted to the normal light again, though, his heart sank down into his gut. He knew right away that this was one situation that he didn't know how to get them out of. When Phoebe thought about what he'd seen, she understood exactly why.

Slow motion took over for both of the boys as Chris got closer to standing straight up again. While the light had given them cover, the three remaining Titans had banded together in one tight clump that now blocked the exit into the living room. The explosion Chris had heard had turned out to be the collapsing of the wall and doorframe out into the kitchen, blocking that escape as well. With their prey effectively trapped, together the Titans had all raised their hands to shoulder height, their powers much more concentrated. Before Chris could warn him, the energy ball that Wyatt threw at them suddenly dissipated in the middle of the air.

Wyatt's eyes opened just wide enough to register surprise when he narrowed them angrily at the intruders. He formed two more energy balls, one in each hand, and lowered his shield long enough so that he could let the weapons do their thing. He was about to raise his shield around himself and his brother once again when he turned to the sound of Chris's scream.

In the back of her head, Phoebe knew that Chris hadn't seen it coming. He often thought that even his mother hadn't seen it coming. It wasn't until later that Chris would remember the sound of the exploding windows and furniture that he'd heard when the light had appeared. Phoebe somehow knew that it wasn't until later, when he was alone and couldn't think of anything else, that he would remember the sound of his own scream. He had been the first to see it, the first to let anyone else know that he'd seen it. The light hadn't been a mere distraction. It hadn't been an announcement. The Wyatt family had been toys to be played with, nothing more, and Hyperion was bored with them. His light had been a weapon, a very deadly weapon.

Phoebe saw the huge knife of glass that was sticking out of her sister's chest and knew that it wasn't good at all. The peppering of miniature cuts all over Piper's arms and face were nothing in comparison. She saw Piper standing there, swaying and looking oddly down at the protrusion from her chest with anger. She felt her stomach turn as Chris's eyes fixed on Piper's hands while they reached up and clapped them on either side of the glass so that she looked to be praying. As her hands trembled around the glass, pulling it out, her sister bravely looked up at the Titans. With a quaking growl, she informed them, "_I wasn't done yet._"

With that, Piper swayed just a little too far, dropping the glass to the floor.

"_PIPER!_" Leo shouted, seeing her fall into Wyatt's arms. Furious, he whipped around, ready to take on the Titans entirely on his own. In his anger, he forgot the cardinal rule not to look directly at them just long enough that he wasn't able to take his eyes away. Before anyone could tear him away, a visible chill came over him as his body became unmovable.

Chris couldn't move. All he could do was stare at the stone statue that was his father in total surprise. He knew what happened to the other Whitelighters and Elders when the Titans would first catch Them, but he'd never seen it first hand. It had always just been something that his parents had told him to keep him on his guard whenever he was out without them. He had never imagined that he would see the day when his father would be trapped like the rest of them.

"_Chris, get her out of here,_" Wyatt shouted, flinging energy balls out of both hands, even with their mother limply leaning on his chest. "_I'll be right behind you. Go!_"

With the one hand, Chris upended what was left of the coffee table, telekinetically tossing the spilling contents over toward the intruders. Phoebe felt his other hand reach for her sister's elbow, yanking hard to pull Piper close to him. She felt his hands tremble as they ran through the blood on her chest when his arm encircled her. Once Piper was secure in their arms, she felt them orb away, ducking a volley of fireballs aimed to keep them from escaping along the way.

Phoebe couldn't hear the surprised exclamations from the people remaining downstairs in the real, waking world. For the last few minutes, they had all been watching her on and off curiously, not sure what was going on. She seemed to be staring into space, just as both Paige and Christopher had said, but there seemed to be a little more to it this time. When she'd thrown herself up and flung the table, no one had known what to do. It seemed so sudden and without explanation that all they could do was stare after her. Both Leo and Piper had asked her if she was seeing something, only to be ignored as if they weren't even in the room at all. It wasn't until she grabbed Piper and orbed away that any of them were certain that something was seriously wrong.

"Did she just orb," asked Victor, looking with wide eyes at the spot where his daughters had been standing. "I thought Phoebe didn't have powers anymore. How did she get the ability to orb if she doesn't have any of her other powers?"

Leo was bent over the edge of the boys' playpen, quickly picking out pieces of shattered glass before either of them could get their little hands on them. He crooked his head in the others' direction, making his voice sound strained from the weird angle of his throat as he pretty much thought out loud. "I don't think she did. It's too soon, especially under the circumstances. Something else made her orb, maybe, but it wasn't her."

Christopher, who suddenly wondered where this small scar in his hand had come from when he was a kid, joined his father at the playpen, only to be sent away.

"Stay back," Leo commanded, waving his glass-filled hand behind him. "I don't want Wyatt orbing you anywhere again." With a bright Daddy smile, Leo asked his other son, "Wyatt, where did you send Mommy and Phoebe? Can you bring them back?"

Sheepishly, Paige admitted, "I don't think Wyatt did it, either, actually." With a guilty scrunching of her eyes and shoulders, she said, "I think Chris did it."

"Me? I didn't do anything."

"No, not you." With all eyes suddenly upon her, she was overcome with the ugly feeling that she was betraying Phoebe a lot more than she thought she was going to. She had really hoped that her sister was going to be able to fix her problem on her own, but this was starting to become a little too dangerous for it to continue. Without necessarily admitting that she knew exactly what was going on, she gave them a nice, big — _okay, glaring _— billboard-sized hint instead. "She didn't get that black eye, either. Chris did."

Thoroughly confused, Christopher looked over to his aunt like she must have lost all her marbles and everyone else's. "Honestly, I had nothing to do with that. What makes you think I had anything to do with that? Dad, I _didn't_ do it!"

"Not you," she said again, frustrated. She was about to try to find another way to explain without explaining when a scream sounded from upstairs. Her eyes flew open wide. She turned to Leo, but he was already a set of orbs floating dangerously fast toward the ceiling before she even got her mouth open.

Sensing that their numbers were dwindling, the toddler starting crying so as not to be forgotten. Naturally, when one of them needed to cry, so did the other. Both Wyatt and Christopher sprang into a torrent of tears. Every time Baby Christopher needed to hitch in a breath, Wyatt would stop, too, thinking that maybe it was all over, only to have to scream just a little louder than the baby again to be heard. It wasn't hard to see that it was all an act, though, because as soon as Grandpa dove in to scoop up both boys, the crying stopped.

For not the first time, Victor proudly smiled, "Yeah. Grandpa's still got it."

Christopher had to stifle a laugh, knowing all of the many things he knew about his grandfather's future. Hey, his sister had to get her klutziness from somewhere. With a smirk, he said, "Yeah. You go ahead and believe that one all you want."

"You're the one who told him he was awesome," Paige argued pointedly while making silly faces at the two boys in Victor's arms. "Live with the consequences."

"Are you saying I'm not awesome," asked Victor indignantly. "The other Chris told everyone repeatedly that I'm awesome. They heard it. I'm awesome."

"Oh, no, you're awesome, Grandpa," Christopher said almost a little too reassuringly. "Although, I'm thinking you guys really need to get a new word. I'm just saying that it has nothing to do with you, per se, why they stopped crying." He pointed a finger in the same direction that Wyatt was pointing, leading them all to a circle of orbs floating around like suncatchers in the window.

Paige chuckled, "He did that the other night, too. Apparently, your big brother knows how to keep you quiet when you annoy him."

Christopher rolled his eyes at her and discovered shortly thereafter that he really shouldn't have taken his eyes off his brother, even for the sake of sarcasm. Wyatt's finger quickly zoomed over to point at Christopher. The orbs that had been pacifying the smaller version of him flew past them all and slammed hard into the adult version. Before Christopher could catch a grip on anything, the orbs surrounded him like a bubble and carried him off backwards into the living room. He reached out on either side of him to try to grab onto the archway that led into the hallway, but he missed. Orbs encased the front door, making it temporarily disappear while Christopher was thrust across the threshold and out onto the sidewalk. As soon as the orb bubble safely set him down, the door reformed, effectively kicking Christopher out of the house.

"Damn it, Wyatt," Christopher seethed in frustration. He kicked at the air before stalking up to the door, muttering the whole way, "Kid, I may not have any powers right now, but I am a helluva lot bigger. Do that again, and I will have no reservations whatsoever about knocking you straight to the moon. Goddamn it!"

When Paige heard the door slam, she called out to her nephew. "Christopher? You okay?"

"Yeah," he grumped, trudging through the hallway. Still somehow more concerned about his brother than himself, he asked, "Is he okay?"

Paige ducked her head around the corner so that she could see him coming into the living room. "Yeah, he's fine. Victor's taking the boys up to the nursery until we can sort that out. Come on and help me get this mess cleaned up before they all come back down again. I don't want anyone stepping on this glass. We had enough of that last night. How _are_ your feet, by the way?" Inwardly she winced, _And how about the rest of you? _

Coming into the sunroom, he shrugged. "They're fine. Nothing for you to worry about." He made sure not to look at her so that he wasn't putting too much pressure on. Lucy had always said he had a stare that made people feel guilty, whether they were or not. (Not that he believed it, but he did try to keep that in the back of his mind with some people.) He bent over and picked up the upended table to set it right. Keeping his eyes to the stuff in his hands as he started putting the bigger pieces of glass on the table, he asked, "What about you? You okay?"

She seemed to think about it for a while, as if she wanted to actually give him an honest answer instead of the family's company line of '_Fine and Dandy_' when all things wacky occurred. She was about to open her mouth to answer him when another scream interrupted her thoughts. She dropped the waste basket in her hands with a concerned look up to the ceiling. "Phoebe."

Without another word, the pair orbed up to see what in the world was going on now.

**III.**

Phoebe and Chris had stuttered to a stop in the middle of Piper's bedroom floor, unable to hold Piper up any longer. She could feel how painfully Chris's arms had tingled as blood tried to flow to his fingers again. He had been holding on to her so tightly that releasing her from his arms had actually hurt more than to hold her.

He laid her gently down on the floor, automatically reaching behind him without looking for a cushion off the sofa. Gingerly, he helped her to sit up enough so that he could put the cushion under her head and neck. It wasn't until he started to swipe away strands of hair that were stuck in the gooey blood on her face that Phoebe could wrest a coherent thought out of the screaming panic in her nephew's head. Even then, it was just a speeding cycle of "_Mom, mom, mom, mom, no, mom, mom, no, mom . . . _"

She knew that she wasn't really with Chris, that it was only his memory that was with her, but that didn't stop Phoebe from wanting to hug her nephew with everything she had. She was feeling all of his fourteen years, his too few years. She knew that kids saw their parents die all the time; she just wished that she could have kept him from seeing what she now knew he had probably seen every day since, over and over in his head. This wasn't even real. She knew that, somehow. It was just his _memory_. Still, nothing in the world had ever been this vivid in her life. She knew he had even put on mismatched socks that morning and had been too tired to care to change them because he hadn't slept very well the night before. She knew he had been irrationally worried in that particular instance that his mother was going to leave him and that she would be mad at herself for leaving him just because he obviously couldn't take care of himself yet. He couldn't even put on a matched pair of socks.

"_Mom, you have to wake up, okay? I can't carry us both. I'm not strong enough. Please. You need to wake up. Wake up now. Please._"

Chris's heart surged when Piper opened her eyes and smiled at him. She barely nodded her understanding, but she did it all the same. She swallowed hard, gathering energy as much as swallowing the blood that Phoebe knew must have been clogging her throat by then. Softly, Piper rasped, "_It looks worse than it is, honey, so don't you worry. Where are your father and brother?_"

"_Wyatt said he'd be right behind us. They . . . They turned Dad to stone._"

Determinedly, Piper struggled to sit up, even though Chris's hand tried to push her shoulder down. Before her son had even had the chance to argue, she said, "_I need to get back down there._"

"_You can't,_" Chris said.

"_Don't you tell me what I can and cannot do. I'm going,_" she insisted. A little gentler, Piper told him, "_Honey, I want you to go to the meeting point. You know which one I mean. We'll be there, I promise. Now help me up._"

Orbs circled just to the side of them then, quickly forming two solid figures. Wyatt appeared, to Chris's worry, with his left arm saturated with blood, but he didn't give either his mother or brother time to say anything about it. Wyatt panted down at his mother without any preamble, "_Where can I hide Dad?_"

"_I'll do it,_" Piper volunteered, her eyes worried at the sight of the statue that was Leo. "_I want you boys out of here._"

"_I've got it, Mom,_" Wyatt argued. "_I'm pretty sure Dad was right: they want Chris, and I can't hold them off for long. You guys need to get out of here before they figure out where he is. I can take care of myself._"

Relieved to see her boy's calmness, Piper grinned as strongly as she could, apparently unaware of the blood in the corner of her mouth. Tiredly, she agreed, if only so that she didn't have to talk any more than necessary. "_Okay. Put him in your room. Put a crystal cage around him to keep him protected. Even they can't get through one of those. Then come meet us at the point. Please be careful._"

Phoebe vaguely wondered what '_point_' it was that they were all talking about, and was grateful when Chris thought of it for her. Just like when they had been small children and gone to the fair or mall, they had always agreed on a place to meet up should they somehow be separated. Piper had taken it to a new, militaristic level with the family in the first Chris's past, turning it into a battle strategy whenever they were attacked in the house or anywhere else. They were to go there in an emergency and not leave until everyone had joined them safely. The kids had both apparently learned that rule early and well. Chris, however, was changing the rule this time, considering that both of their parents were effectively out of the picture. Strongly, leaving no room for argument, Chris told his brother, "_If you aren't there in five minutes, I'm coming back for you._"

"_No, you aren't_," both Piper and Wyatt said anyway.

"_Try and stop me,_" Chris said bravely. Without another word, Chris slung his mother's arm around his shoulders and orbed out of the bedroom.

When the orbs fell out of their field of vision, Phoebe saw that they were in the alley behind P3. Chris carefully went about the business of helping his mother to sit up against the back door, smiling happily down at her. She could sit up on her own. She was weak, but she was sitting up. That had to be a good sign, right? Seeing that she was shivering, though, Chris offered to go into the back storeroom to get a blanket for her.

"_Not until your brother is here,_" Piper ordered. "_I don't want you going anywhere without Wyatt._"

"_It's just inside the door, Mom_. _You're cold._"

Phoebe saw in her sister's eyes then what she knew Chris couldn't grasp for a few more years. Piper had known that her fourteen-year-old didn't really know what was happening to her. For that Phoebe imagined she had been glad and had obviously been determined to make it as easy on him as possible. Smiling a lie, she said, "_I'll be fine, honey. Let's just wait for your brother_."

"_Yes, let's wait for your big brother,_" a wicked giggle called from behind the gate separating the P3 property from the rest of the alley.

In their concern for one another, neither witch had sensed the arrival of an entire murder of demons. Through the only exit out of the fence, they weren't been able to count how many there were. Only four sauntered through while more closed the gap. Chris instinctively moved in front of his mother, fists raised, as his brother had done so many times for him. The demon closest to him telekinetically moved him back to where he'd stood, shaking his head. "_Don't worry, kid. We aren't here for her._"

From behind the demonic quartet, a dark-haired young woman slinked toward her quarry, her deceptively innocent beauty taunting Piper without her even trying to. She casually crouched down on the balls of her feet so that she was nearly eye to eye with the wounded Charmed One then placed her hands elegantly in her lap. Her voice was sweet and blasé, as if they were the best of friends rather than enemies, when she said, "_Do you remember the last time you saw me, Piper? I'll admit, it's been a few years and you _are _looking a little worn around the eyes; I should probably refresh your memory. I came to you the day your sister Paige died sixteen years ago. I warned you about the Titans, pesky little buggers that they are. I told you that they weren't just going to go away and that they would destroy this city if you didn't do something about it. You were too bereaved to listen to anyone but your husband and other sister. Of course, I don't have feelings, or maybe I would have cared and come to you another day. That's the tricky thing about these visions, though. I don't pick and choose when I get them. I told you that I could help you and yours defeat the Titans before they were able to resurrect the rest of their kind. I told you that I could help you so that you wouldn't have to suffer more than necessary. You didn't want to hear me. All you had to do was help me to become human once it was all over, but you apparently thought that helping one morally ambiguous being was too much to ask, even in the fight of your life. You sent me away. Everything I saw that day has since come to pass. This was the last of it. You were going to live to see everyone you ever cared about die, everyone but your husband. We're here now, at the end of things, and it all could have been prevented if only you had listened to me._"

Piper worked up just as sincere a grin and said, "_Oh, Seer, really; you don't actually expect me to take you seriously in that getup, did you?_"

Phoebe was suddenly overcome with the urge to laugh at her sister, at the situation, at all of them. She wasn't sure if it was really coming from her, though, or from Chris. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Chris caught sight of what was letting his mother joke even then. Wyatt came charging down the end of the alley, running out of his orbs with a feral look on his face that Phoebe knew reminded Chris in later years of the look he had seen permanently scarring his brother's features.

Wyatt started lobbing energy balls in every direction, even as he was running toward them. He managed to take out three of the demons before he reached them. When he couldn't quite see around the gate, he hollered, "_Mom!_"

Piper responded by blowing up the demon closest to him, a defiant look in her eyes as she stared down the Seer. "_Yeah, baby?_"

"_Just checking. Chris?_"

Before Chris had been able to answer his brother, the Seer stood up and filled them all in with a sing-song, snappy pronouncement. "_Oh, he's about to be captured for the second time in one day._"

Wyatt stopped dead in his tracks, skidding to a stop, wrenching his ankle doing it. "_Chris?_"

Two demons shimmered in and replaced the Seer in position around Piper, guarding her from seeing or doing anything to aid her sons. As they moved on her, two Darklighters puffed in, flanking Chris exactly where he stood. They quickly took a forceful hold on him and marched him out of the gate so that Wyatt would have no doubt who was in charge. Even through the pain Phoebe could feel in the Darklighters' hands on his skin, Chris tried to crane his head around so that he could see his mother, but they held in their hands arrows positioned just an inch to either side of his head and chest.

The Seer looked between the two teenagers with a satisfied grin on her face. She clicked her tongue down at Piper, shaking her head sarcastically. "_You really should have learned to take my word for it._" She then turned and walked out to meet the Darklighters. All pretense of cordiality gone, she said, "_All wrapped up, pretty as Christmas, just as promised. When this is over, I expect to be properly compensated for the information._" Finally, she turned then to Wyatt, speaking to him as if he were still a child. "_Didn't anyone ever tell you that you are your brother's keeper? That's twice in one day that he's been caught, and that's twice in one day that you've let it happen. What kind of brother are you?_"

"_The kind that's going to vanquish your cheap ass if you don't call your goons off my family._"

The Seer's only response was to nod at the Darklighters holding Chris. They both produced crossbows in their free hands, which they aimed directly at Wyatt's heart. Apparently satisfied that everything and everyone was under control, she twinkled her fingers in all directions, waving particularly down at Piper, then flamed out with another malicious giggle.

Frustrated, Wyatt just started flinging energy balls left and right, looking only to make sure he wasn't hitting his mother or brother. Two more demons disappeared in flaming agony.

Without warning, they suddenly all disappeared, vanquished, except for the two holding Chris and the one standing over Piper. Wyatt took the opportunity to advance on the Darklighters, who glared angrily over his shoulders, telling him exactly where the new threat had come from. Wyatt whipped around, his hands forming energy balls before he had even been able to see what he was looking for.

Fifty feet away, Cronus waved a hand in Wyatt's direction, extinguishing the energy balls in the teenager's hands. In his deep, perpetually growling voice, the Titan went on to inform Wyatt, "_We weren't done with you yet._"

Defiantly, Wyatt retorted, "_Yeah? Well, I was done with you._" His blue protective shield came up, allowing him to actually turn his back on the Titan.

Chris's eyes then again trained on his brother's, obviously communicating something that Phoebe was in no way prepared to interpret. She knew Chris had understood some unseen response perfectly, though. She felt how his pulse quickened as he blinked two long blinks. Wyatt then blinked once, apparently another signal. Chris then called off a five count in his head until both he and Wyatt pounced.

Suddenly, Chris dropped into a crouch on the balls of his feet, leaning slightly backward to avoid the tips of the arrows. While the startled Darklighters had to take a second to react, he then bounced back up, leaping what he hoped would be a safe distance out of arm's reach. As his feet hit the ground, though, a heavily clad boot coiled around his leg, tripping him up. Before he could get up off his scraped hands, powerful hands took charge of his elbows and pulled him back between the pair of Darklighters.

In the meantime, Wyatt lowered his shield long enough to lob energy balls at the Darklighter standing over his mother. The weapon widely missed its intended target, though, as a hand grabbed his arm just before letting it go. Wyatt tried to raise his shield again so that he could freely turn to see who had stopped him, but the hand had such a steady grip that he couldn't get around it. The next thing the brothers knew, the teenager was pulled dangerously close to the Titan's chest, close enough that he was able to feel that the Titan had no breath. Wyatt struggled against Cronus's grip, but the Titan's hand was strong enough to crush his elbow. Chris could hear the ball in the joint practically turn to powder, the agony rendering Wyatt unable to be in any way effective against his captor or his brother's.

Delighted at this small personal victory, Cronus called over to the Darklighters holding Chris. "_I believe your kind have spent and wasted over sixteen years looking for this one._"

Not to be cowed that easily, one of the Darklighters pulled Chris even closer, the tip of his arrow actually penetrating Chris's skin. "_And we know you've spent the last fourteen years, failing miserably, trying to get this one._"

The Darklighter that was standing guard over Piper apparently took the challenges between parties as his cue to do something himself. His hand snaked down toward her. He extended one long finger and ground it into the seeping wound in her chest, forcing her to cry out until she was ashen with the pain.

"_MOM!_" both boys screamed, her pain echoing in their ears.

"_Children, children_," Cronus clicked at them. "_Inside voices, please._"

Darklighters and Titan alike laughed heartily at the screams. As soon as it died down, though, the silence became much more menacing. Sneering at Cronus, the Darklighter on Chris's left then gloated, "_We have something you want. You have something we want. For now, I think we're done here._"

Chris and Wyatt looked at each other in abject horror. They both leaned forward, as if trying for one last second to escape, only to be held back by laughing hands. Bright blue and green eyes both popped wide open, terrified; their mouths both opened, ready to scream.

And then there was nothing but blackness.

For all the brightness of orbing, travelling by black orbs was completely without light. At least, that's what Chris had and still thought. He hadn't exactly had a whole lot to judge it by, though. He found himself deposited in some room, cold and smooth, without even a sliver of light. Phoebe could tell that he was freezing, but that could just as easily have been from the poison she knew had penetrated his skin from the arrow tip. All he knew was that he was cold and blind. One of his captors told him to keep quiet and still, then vanished from what Chris could tell. He couldn't see or hear anything after that. He was able to feel along the floor he was on, which he was pretty sure was cement of some kind, until he found a wall to brace himself against. He raised a circle of orbs out of his palm, like he remembered Wyatt used to do for him when he was little and afraid of the dark. Even the walls and floor had been painted black so that it looked and felt like he was literally in the middle of nowhere. He flung barrage after barrage of orbs at the four walls, looking for any kind of door or escape hatch, but found nothing. It wasn't until the orbs began to stutter and fizz with his exhaustion that he gave up. It wasn't long after that that he started to cry. He cried until he sobbed, then sobbed until he fell asleep, praying that his parents and brother would be okay and find a way to come for him.

Surrounded by the blackness, Phoebe, too, cried. She trembled violently in her sister's arms, unable to control her fear. She wasn't even sure if it was hers or Chris's anymore, but at this point, it didn't much matter. Even though she'd been expecting it, nothing could have prepared her for seeing what she knew had turned out to be her sister's death through the fourteen-year-old eyes of her nephew. He hadn't been there when she'd finally died, alone and afraid for her children in a back alley, but she knew somehow that Chris had felt it. He'd felt her go, just as she had felt it when Prue left them. He'd done his best, but she knew he didn't think it was good enough. It was no wonder he had had such a hard time looking at Piper once she had known his secret. She was going to have a hard time now herself.

Even though the memory seemed to be over, his voice kept echoing in her head. She could feel him rocking himself for any kind of comfort and begging his mother to be okay, just wanting more than anything for her to open her eyes again so that she could find him. Still half-trapped in the space between his memory and the present, Phoebe sobbed uncontrollably, "Please, Mom, wake up. Oh, god, Mom, wake up. We need you. Please . . . They're okay. They're okay. They're all okay."

"Phoebe, honey, what are you seeing," Piper asked for the umpteenth time, thinking that somehow her sister had regained her powers and was having a particularly strong vision. It wouldn't be the first time she'd seen Phoebe reenact a vision since becoming an empath, nor would it be the first time one had hit her so hard. Of course, she hadn't actually orbed out with any of her visions before, but still . . . Piper was getting tired of trying to hold her sister down, though. This had to end and needed to end fast. "Pheebs?"

The witch's answer was a childlike, whispering sob, "Come back."

"Good idea. Come back to us, Phoebe." Truly frightened, Piper turned to a newly-arrived Leo with huge eyes. "What's happening to her? I thought They took her powers away."

Coming out of the memory at last, Phoebe blinked hard and answered in her own, somewhat steadier voice, "They did. It wasn't a vision."

Piper guided her still-shaking sister up off the floor and over to the edge of the bed to help her to sit down. She ran her thumb up and down Phoebe's shoulder, the way Grams used to do whenever they were upset, completely without realizing she was doing it. Leo sat down on the other side of them, attempting futilely to add his own brand of glowy comfort to his sister-in-law's head, just in case, to no avail. Piper gave him a grim but grateful grin before wrapping both arms around her sister and rocking her gently to try to restore a normal breathing pattern to them all.

She started to stroke her sister's hair, softly whispering, "It's okay. Whatever it is you saw, we'll fix it. That's what we do, remember?"

"It _wasn't_ a vision," Phoebe reiterated with frustrated tears. "And you can't fix it."

"Okay, honey, look; you need to take a deep breath and tell us what's going on here. Maybe if you just lie down . . . "

A look passed between them, and without waiting for her permission, Piper and Leo started to move to resituate Phoebe on the bed. Not that she knew what they were doing. . . Still so lost in whatever it was she was caught in, she was easily pliable. It didn't take much at all for Leo to pick her up and set her gently against the pillows. She didn't even twitch in protest. He swept her hair out of her eyes and offered a reassuring smile before he and Piper both crossed the room to the stand near the nursery doorway so that they could talk.

Arms crossed over her chest, Piper glanced worriedly over at the middle sister. Scared, she looked back up at her husband and whispered, "What's wrong with her?"

"I have no idea," Leo answered helplessly. "But whatever it is, I think it has something to do with whatever did that to her face. Whatever it is, it's blocking my ability to heal her."

"She said it wasn't a vision, but what else would it be? I mean, _some_thing made her orb up here. Something has her scared out of her mind. You . . . you didn't hear her crying. She — something is doing this to her. Are-are They doing this to her?"

"I don't think so. That isn't Their style."

Angrily Piper retorted, "How do you know? We haven't heard from them since the day that Gideon . . . You turned your powers on another Elder. Maybe They don't care about why. What if They're turning her powers against her? They haven't exactly been on our side lately. You know They're trying to find a way to punish you. What if this is it?" Not so sure she should have her sights away from Phoebe for too long, she turned her frustration back on her sister, who was lying whimpering on the bed, asking for Paige. "God, Leo, what do we do?"

Leo loosely encircled his wife in his arms when she fell against his chest, unable to give her any real answer or comfort. Knowing that making her feel better was more important than his gun-shy reaction to pull away, he made himself kiss the top of her hair, closing his eyes. He hated the impotent feeling he'd had every day around her, not knowing what to say to her about even the weather. Damn it. What good was being an Elder anyway? How could he help solve the problems of the world if he couldn't even solve the problems of his family? Still, she needed him to get over it and fast. Attempting to put on the brave face he remembered once having, he told her, "We'll figure it out, Piper. We always do. She's going to be okay."

As if just to contradict him, Phoebe screamed from the bed, "Leave her alone! Paige!"

Startled, Leo and Piper darted to the bedside. At the same time, Christopher and Paige appeared in the bedroom doorway, orbing up together from the living room. They quickly took in the scene from where they stood and looked at one another, seeing that whatever it was, it wasn't good. While Paige stayed back in between the doorframes, Christopher stormed in, clearly worried. "What's going on? Phoebe?"

Leo answered him, "We don't know."

Piper took her sister's hand, scared. "Phoebe? Talk to me. What's happening? Can you hear me? Please, say something."

"P-paige," Phoebe asked, seeming to cower away from the people surrounding her bedside. Seconds later she let out a blood curdling scream.

"Damn it," Piper snapped. She wiped a frustrated tear from her cheek before surging with anger. "C'mon, now, you're really scaring us. What the hell — "

Before the question was finished, Phoebe weakly called, "So am I!"

"Oh, god, wake her up," Paige whispered quietly from the doorway.

Everyone turned to look at the ghost-white witch, who was holding on to the door to keep from losing all control of her knees and falling to the ground. Christopher dashed over to catch her, almost missing her as she gave in to her fear and pitched forward. He had to heave her up so that he could recatch her about the waist.

"Paige?"

"Wake her up, now!" she cried painfully, shaking so hard that Christopher could barely hold her up. "She'll die if you don't."

Confused, angry, and mostly terrified, Piper grabbed Phoebe by both shoulders and shook her violently. Phoebe's shorn head flopped around uselessly on her neck, as if she were nothing more than an overused bobblehead doll. "Phoebe? Wake up! Damn it! Why can't she hear me? PHOEBE!"

For a brief second, Phoebe's eyes opened and she gathered her breath to say, "Hey."

"We're running out of time," Paige said, choking on the words. "You have to wake her up _now_."

"You, either," Phoebe whispered.

Leo's eyes flew open, suddenly realizing what was going on. He looked at Paige, her thoughts that Chris was somehow behind Phoebe's orbing making so much more sense to him now. "Is she — " Without waiting for an answer other than his sister-in-law's stricken face, Leo leapt off the bed and gathered Phoebe into his arms. He screamed, "Somebody start a cold shower. NOW!"

Letting the fear finally move through her, Paige forced herself to turn around and ping-pong down the hall to the bathroom. Christopher tried to help her, but her arms flailed as she ran. When they reached the bathroom, Christopher shoved past her and turned the cold water in the shower stall on full blast.

Leo charged in behind them, the gasping Phoebe in his arms. He blew past them, thrusting himself and his sister-in-law into the frigid rains of the shower, not even noticing that he'd slammed the shower door so hard into the wall that it shattered into thousands of pieces all over their new rug. Oblivious to the glass crackling under their feet, Leo jostled Phoebe around so that she was in as much of a standing position as his arms could support. Paige squeezed in with them and quickly turned her sister's face toward the water. Both of them shouted in her ears, begging her to snap out of her state.

It wasn't long before there was more than just water from the showerhead gracing Phoebe's face. She started to weep openly, gripping tightly to her sister and brother-in-law. Her breathing changed from breathless gasps to water-logged chokes. When she finally opened her eyes, they were fearfully bright. Most importantly, though, they were hers.

Turning her eyes first on Paige, she sadly deduced, "That's why you didn't want to see Darryl." She then looked up at Leo. "Either of you. Leo, I am _so_ incredibly sorry. I know I've told you already, but I didn't really understand until now. I am so sorry."

Still unbelieving, Leo asked, "You saw it? You saw — you saw Chris . . . die?"

Now just as shaken as his aunt and father, Christopher started to ask but couldn't finish, "You mean — "

"No," Paige said quickly, knowing what her nephew must have been thinking. "The other you. It wasn't a premonition. She saw our last few minutes with him. Leo laying her on the bed must have triggered it."

"Except it was from his point of view, right," asked Leo, trying to piece it all together.

Shaking the memory out of her head, Phoebe shivered. "It's okay. I can fix it."

"If you could fix it, you would have already," Paige argued, now more angry than ever. "Phoebe, this has to stop. Leo knows now; we have to tell Piper."

"Tell Piper _what_," Piper interrupted unhappily from the hallway. "Phoebe? _Do_ you know what's happening to you?" When her sister just stood there shivering and staring at the floor, she turned on her other sister, demanding an answer. "Paige? Anyone?"

Sensing that Phoebe was at least temporarily staying with them, Leo reached behind them and turned the water off. Both girls greedily thanked him as much as his shivering muscles did. He took the towel Christopher was numbly holding out to him and wrapped it around Phoebe. He held her tightly about the shoulders as first Paige and then he ushered her out of the shower.

Piper didn't move out of their way. She instead crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to be unmovable. "I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on."

"Lucy, you got some 'splainin' ta do," Paige's teeth chattered. Needing an opportunity to talk to Phoebe alone, she held her sister's hand tightly as she orbed the two of them back down to the sunroom, hearing Piper shouting at them all the way down the stairs.

"HEY! NO ORBING! GET BACK HERE!"

Ignoring the yelling, Paige set her sister directly in front of her and hissed, "I'm telling you right now, either you march back upstairs when we're done here and explain this to Piper, or Leo and I will do it for you. This is it. I'm not covering for you anymore, and you know now that Leo knows, he won't either. You can't keep doing this. You've already got a split lip and a black eye. You _orbed_. How long before you end up like . . . You — I thought you were going to die, too. You've seen what happened when he — do you have any — I thought you were going to die!"

"I thought I was," Phoebe admitted, definitely scared. "I think the only reason I didn't is because I didn't actually see Gideon . . . with the knife, you know? I just — I don't know how it happened, but somehow I can't separate us anymore. Every time I turn around, it seems like something triggers a memory for him. Last night, all it took was seeing him sitting up on the bridge beam to remember so many things that I needed a map just to figure out where I was."

"That still doesn't explain where you're getting black eyes from," said Paige. "It doesn't explain what happened upstairs."

Exhausted and out of ideas, Phoebe sat down on the corner of the table and put her forehead in her hands. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"Four years ago, I would have accepted that answer, but I have been in this family for too long now to let that one lie. You guys were always telling me that '_I don't know_' was never an acceptable answer, no matter what the problem if magic was involved. You can't change the rules on me whenever you feel like it. You have to know at least something, so start at the beginning. We'll figure out where to go from there."

"You already know the beginning," Phoebe argued weakly.

"Consider me addled," said Paige, crossing her arms over her chest. Pacing back and forth in front of her sister as if she was a drill instructor, she commanded, "Start talking, Missy."

Phoebe stared off through the windows, not wanting to look at her sister for the moment. She knew Paige was right; this had gone on long enough. As always, what had started out with good intentions had managed to turn into a disaster. She should have known better. It wasn't like she hadn't been a Halliwell her whole life. Their entire family history was peppered with good intentions that went sour. Mom and Grams had bound their powers with the best of intentions. They just had no idea that when the girls would finally get their powers back, the demonic world would be ready and waiting so that they wouldn't even have time to prepare themselves for the lifetime of battles ahead. Leo and Piper had started their marriage, thinking that they were more than capable of making it work, but look where it had landed them. Chris had ventured from the future with only a single-minded thought of saving his own brother. Hell, even Cole had had the best of intentions. Had he known that the Seer would trick him into becoming the new Source, had he known what would happen between them before it happened, he probably wouldn't have agreed to take on the Hollow. So far, the only one that was still out to the jury was Piper and Leo's marriage, and even that wasn't looking so great right now. Well, her predicament was out, too, but she wasn't going to count that one. Even thinking about it right now could bring on a memory, which was the last thing she needed to do.

Chris, the spell, or whoever was in control of this wacky little torture device apparently had other ideas. Just as vividly as it had been the last time she'd seen it, the glass of the windows exploded inward as she felt herself being tackled to the ground. She didn't have time to realize anything else as blackness overtook her thoughts.

**IV.**

Upstairs in the attic, Christopher was spooked. Really spooked.

After he'd had that talk with his father on the bridge, he had figured out that this other him had been incredibly important to the family. Even thinking on their conversation the day of Grandpa's funeral, it was right there staring him in the face. This other him had had such an impact on them that his father had traveled to the future to be sure that he was all right. Now though, he wasn't sure it had really sunk in for him until just a few minutes ago. Now? Now he was sufficiently disturbed. Whatever this other Chris had done, he had made the family love him so much that both of his aunts had apparently put themselves in mortal danger over his death. That was it, right? Why else would she suddenly be having visions or whatever about this other him dying? She had premonitions, not visions of the past, yet there they were anyway. How could he not be unnerved? It was enough to mess with anyone's head.

He stood in the middle of the attic, shivering in his uneasiness. Part of him, the part of him that was still capable of thinking about this rationally at the moment, was trying really hard not to think about the other thing that all of this told him about the other version of himself. The first Chris, if Phoebe's vision, encounter, whatever with the other him was to be an honest indicator (and he had no doubt that it was), had died in terrible fear and pain. If things had turned out differently the day he and Lucy were to come back, if their father hadn't changed his destination, he himself could have ended up in the exact same situation as the other Chris. So scared, so alone, so very dead. The way it had effected the entire family was the only evidence needed — it was no wonder that no one would tell him about the day he had been born. He wouldn't have wanted to know what was, quite possibly in their eyes, the way he was doomed to die either. He never would have wanted any of them to have to relive that either. For the first time in his life, after hearing Phoebe scream like that, he was actually glad that they wouldn't tell him about the ghost of impending death they must have seen every time they looked at him.

Christopher Halliwell did most definitely believe in spooks. Of all shapes and sizes.

_I do believe in spooks. I do, I do, I do, I do, I do believe in spooks._

Shaking his head of the fear, he reminded himself that Phoebe wasn't done with her problem yet, and if he didn't get this show on the road, she might very well die next time with the memory of him. He had left his worried parents for the attic to find a spell to help her, not to wonder about what might have been. He had a family in the future to save, but it wouldn't matter worth a damn if they couldn't save the family in the Here and Now.

The young witch forced himself to snap out of it, strolling over to the podium with his hands reaching out to start flipping the pages of The Book of Shadows before he had even circled around behind it. It wasn't until his hands grasped thin air that he even realized that the mammoth volume was missing from its home. For a brief moment, he looked around wildly, searching it out and fearing the worst. It was as he opened his mouth to shout out to his mother that The Book was missing that he remembered that it was down in the conservatory where Paige had left it. Annoyed, he sighed and rolled his eyes back into his head. He was about to orb down to retrieve it when a bright swirl of orbs planted itself right at his feet.

Astonishingly white, the orbs circled round, nearly blinding him. Though bright, the orbs were obviously weak, circling in a laborious stutter to form a shape. Christopher stepped back, pulling the bookstand with him to make more room for the orber, just in case that was a problem. (He'd orbed into his own share of furniture as a kid. It happened.) The longer the orbs whirled, though, the more suspicious he grew.

Finally, the orbs settled into what appeared to be two struggling people. One, obviously the larger of the two, was working hard to hold the other much smaller person up and together. The orbs condensed further until the two figures tumbled violently out of them. A simultaneous crash into the floorboards jarred them both wickedly to Christopher's feet.

Christopher's heart stopped, literally. A pain in his chest was the only thing keeping him from thinking that he must be dead or something. It hurt so much that he knew he couldn't be either dead or dreaming. No living person could feel that and not be awake.

Lying at his feet, covered in blood, were both his brother and his sister, Excalibur clutched over her chest.

Stunned, enraged, and not looking for explanations, Christopher reared back and kicked at Wyatt, hard in the ear. His brother's head snapped back, forcing the elder of the brothers to lose what precarious balance he had. Wyatt held fast to their sister, though, arms encircling her about the chest. Christopher desperately reached his foot back again, this time determined to loose his brother's steeled grip on the unconscious body in his arms, but before he could swing it around, Wyatt looked up at him with an expression that startled Christopher's heart back to a breakneck pace.

"Help her, Chris," Wyatt pleaded, uncharacteristically sincere and seemingly terrified. "Oh, god, help her."

Christopher dropped to his knees with a grunt. He had to blink a few times, not sure he was hearing what he was hearing. This just couldn't be. It couldn't.

Angry that his brother was taking so long to get moving, Wyatt snipped, sounding very much like his usual self, "What are you waiting for?"

Still dazed, Christopher asked, "How? What are you — "

"She switched our powers," Wyatt interrupted in a panic. He reached up for his brother, who jumped back like he was dodging a hissing rattlesnake. Wyatt reached again, this time snagging Christopher's arm, and pulled him roughly down to his knees next to them. "I tried, but I can't heal her. Something is blocking me. You're going to have to do it."

"I can't! I've never been able to. You were too busy taking over the Underworld to teach me how, remember?"

As if he hadn't heard his brother at all, Wyatt ordered, "Damn it, Christopher, do something!"

"What did you do," seethed Christopher, not knowing in his fear that he was just short of screaming everything he said. He shoved the sword off Lucy's chest, her arms too limp to really hold on to it anyway. His hands ran up and down her body, feeling for any sign of the edges of the wound in the bloody mess in the center of her, but he couldn't find where it started or ended. His hands were shaking far too hard. He could feel the rattling all the way up through his arm and shoulder into his teeth. Even his words shook as he again demanded, "What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do it," Wyatt weakly told his brother, clinging tighter to the girl in his arms like she was a shield. "She did."

"Liar," Christopher accused, hardly believing the same old '_It Wasn't Me_' face that Wyatt had used his entire life whenever he was in trouble. Furious, Christopher glared through his brother without hearing anything Wyatt was saying. Instead of even humoring his brother, he desperately screamed for the only person he knew could help. "DAD!"

Undeterred by his brother's warranted but useless inability to believe him, Wyatt tried again to make Christopher hear him. He almost wouldn't have believed himself if he hadn't actually heard the tears in his own voice. They didn't make any sense to him. Nothing made sense to him; it was all so muddled. Wyatt hoped that the tears would work to his advantage as he said in a husky voice, "You have to believe me, Christopher. I don't want her to die any more than you do. I wouldn't lie about this. Not this. I don't know how she did it. She just started rhyming, and it all went black. There were so many of them, I had no idea what she was doing. It was — God, Chris, where's Dad?"

"He'll be here," the younger brother snapped. "Now what happened?"

"I'm telling you, I don't remember. It's all so fuzzy. I — We were at the manor. She — the baby's been making her really sick, really, really sick. I brought a doctor to see her, but he didn't have any answers about what was wrong with her either, so she talked me into taking her home. She said the fresh air would do her good. She thought that there was some kind of recipe in the kitchen for a potion that Mom supposedly had made when she and the other sisters were pregnant with all of us. I stayed outside on the patio while she went in to look. It was like everything was completely normal. After that, I'm not sure what happened. I — I know I didn't see them. When they attacked, I — there were so many . . . I lost track of her. She was standing in the doorway and rhyming. There was glass and — I don't remember!"

Christopher was quickly growing tired of Wyatt's spattered, barely coherent attempt to tell the story to suit him, to make himself look the innocent in all of it. He'd spent his entire life having to see through lies like these, and he wasn't about to let his sister die while Wyatt spun another one. He just didn't have time for this. In the meantime, the only thing he could do besides try to put the pieces together was scream his head off, and if that was what it was going to take, he'd be more than happy to do it. "DAD!" His eyes bore into his brother's, warning him without any mistake that Wyatt had better be telling the truth. "Before what? Wyatt, think! What happened to her? DAD!"

"All I remember is blackness. It was everywhere. Then it felt like every bone in my body was crushed. Everything went black and then it was just there in the middle of the air. I don't know how or what it was. The only thing I can think of to describe it is that it just sort of focused into this black cloud. I don't think she could see it, but it was like she was expecting to see something. She kept telling me to get up. I . . . I wanted to her to stay away, to close the doors and stay in the house, but she started coming toward me. She told me to call for Excalibur and the damned thing actually came to her. I don't know how. She just started swinging at the air, asking over and over where it was. I could hear her talking to someone, but I'm not sure. I really don't know. I think she knew that whatever she was doing had weakened me. I was about to try to orb her out of there anyway when it — I don't know — it saw her or felt her or something. The thing just rammed right into her and came out the other side. I don't know what it was. If I did, I — "

Willing his hands to do his father's magical healy thing, Christopher frantically waved them all up and down his sister's body, shaking them, as if all that was keeping it from working was a short in the wiring. At the same time, he continued to try to force a strangely docile Wyatt into piecing everything together for him. "How did you get here?"

"The spell. Our spell, the one for the snow gardens."

"Why would that bring you _here_? They haven't even been built in this time, and you've destroyed them in ours."

Smoothing her blood-matted blonde hair out of her ears, Wyatt looked down at Lucy and said, as if it were a great revelation, "That was never her safe place, Christopher. You were. We were. She didn't feel safe anywhere unless you were there. _We_ are her sanctuary, not the gardens." He looked up, his eyes meeting his brother's. In them he saw a flicker of sweet nostalgia, but it quickly turned to business again. Going on to explain, Wyatt looked back down at her and said, "After it went through her, I got to her as fast as I could. She told me to find you. I knew she knew what was going on and asked her what I needed to do, but she kept telling me to tell you and then she just started saying the spell. She grabbed me about half way through and told me to finish it with her. It brought us to you. I think she knew it would. I'm not sure. I think that's how it happened, but it's all so —"

"Dad! I need you," Christopher yelled again. Then, having nowhere else to direct his anger, he venomously bit at his brother. "Of course you don't. The next thing I know, you're going to tell me that you don't remember exactly what happened because it wasn't your fault. Damn it! You're supposed to be the most powerful witch the world has ever seen. You are the next so-called King Arthur, Lord of Excalibur. So why is it that the rest of us are always trying to save your pitiful ass? Why are we always paying for your screw ups? Huh? And why in the hell are you blaming this on her? Take some fucking responsibility, for once in your life. Damn it! DAD! LEO!"

"Christopher?" Softly, Lucy whimpered, her eyes unopened but fingers reaching and curling around his. "Chris?"

"I'm here," he said, grateful to hear her voice. "I'm right here, honey."

"Is the baby okay," she asked, her hand too heavy to move again toward her stomach to feel for herself. "Is he?"

Even though he knew that there was no way in hell that the baby could have survived the mess that her entire torso had been turned into, he smiled reassuringly at her. He could pay the consequences of lying to her later. "He's fine, honey. You just worry about making yourself better right now."

"And Wyatt," she asked.

"Not going anywhere without you." He tried to smile for her, the first untwisted smile he could remember on his own lips in years.

Lucy tried to open her eyes but weakly closed them again once she had them half opened. She swallowed hard to try to make her mouth work. "I did it? Did I destroy it? Wyatt, you're safe?"

"I'm me, little girl. You did it. Remember?"

"Wyatt, what's she talking about? Destroy what — that cloud thing? I thought you said you didn't know what it was. What did you — "

Not to be interrupted by her big brothers as always, Lucy gathered up as much force as she could get into her voice and commanded, "Knock it off, both of you. Christopher, listen to me. You have to save him from here. It doesn't fix anything unless you do the same thing here. I think it's probably weaker here than it was back at home. You might have a chance if you get to it now. The evil, it — Daddy?"

Christopher looked up to see his father charging through the door. Relieved that things were finally looking up for his sister, he called hopefully, "Dad! Help!"

"Chr- — " The angel started, but then he saw the two familiar figures on the floor with his son and cringed. His sons, both of them, and his daughter — _I'm going to be a grandfather!_ — all of his children were there, all of them covered in blood. Every panicky, fatherly instinct immediately took over. He raced over to the kids, hands already glowing. He dropped to his knees, his hands desperate to find the wound in his daughter's body. His eyes first found his eldest son, burning with an anger that he had rarely felt before. "What did you do? What _the hell_ did you do?" Leo didn't wait for an answer and looked to his second son. "Did he hurt you?"

"What took you so long," Christopher asked, preferring not to answer that question.

"I was with your mother and aunts. Phoebe had another of these flashes or visions, whatever you want to call them. She was knocked out cold. I was trying to heal her when you called."

Under her father's hands, Lucy quietly coughed. For the first time since their arrival, she looked and sounded more afraid than concerned. "Christopher?"

The boy grinned comfortingly down on his sister. Their father was here now; he was going to fix it. They would all start over. Dad was going to make it all okay. Before he could put it into words, his attention was pulled away from her to the attic doorway where the three sisters were quickly falling into battle positions.

"Chris, we figured you forgot that The Book was downstairs. We heard a noise. Is everything — Step away from my son," Piper had started around the corner when she stopped just inside the door, her sisters flanking her with raised fists. Hands armed and dangerous, Piper warned the blonde-haired stranger, "I said step away now! You won't live long enough for me to have to tell you a third time."

Terrified enough as it was, Christopher cried in panic, "Mom! Get out of here! Please! You have to get out." He turned his attention back to his father and sister, both of whom were starting to cry. "Dad?"

"It isn't working," said Leo, numb with his own fear.

"Leo," Piper asked, unwilling to even lower her hands until she got an explanation of what she was seeing.

Furious at the inability of anyone in the family to do anything or to listen to him for one simple damned request, Christopher snapped at his mother. "GET OUT!" He didn't even care what she did next. She could be mad at him all she wanted right now. He had bigger things to think about. To his father he begged, "You're a doctor. Be a doctor and fix this. Please, Dad. You're the only one who can."

Leo shook his hands the same way Christopher had done moments before, just as irritated with his seeming inability to ever save any of his children from anything. He squeezed his daughter's hand in his, willing one last surge of healing into her. It was all he could do to swallow back his disappointment, but after a moment, he felt the change in him. Knowing that there was nothing more that he or his powers could do, Leo kissed his daughter for the first and what was going to be the last time, then stood up with finality. He bent over, kissed Christopher on the top of his head, and walked over to join the sisters. He stretched his arms wide to corral them out of the room, but they would only let him lead them as far as the door. Piper opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but Leo shook his head. When she stopped, he was almost sure it was the tears he knew were drowning his eyes that finally got through to her.

At the sound of a gasping whimper, Wyatt pulled his brother's attention back away from their father's retreat to their sister. "Chris? We're losing her." The now rapid, frantic gasping was scaring Wyatt in a way that he couldn't ever remember being frightened. He looked to his brother just as everyone else in the family had always seemed to him to do, and asked, "What do we do?"

Even though he knew it was futile, Christopher's eyes darted over to his father's one last time. "Dad?" When all his father could do was blink away tears, Christopher wiped away his own with the back of his hand. To his baby sister, he pleadingly croaked, "You need to tell me what did this to you so that I can find a way to fix it. You have — Come on, honey, you have to give me a chance to fix it. God, don't you leave me now. Don't make me the last one. Please."

Fading quickly and struggling to catch air, she stammered, "Y-you ar-aren't-t, no-ot anym-more. F-find the-the thing they m-m-miss-missed."

"What thing? Talk to me. Come on. Just keep talking."

Openly crying now, Lucy's voice took on the same pleading as her brother's, even as she struggled for breath to say anything at all. "It w-was the worst-worst d-day of his life-fe-life. I-I d-don't wan-wanna die-ie, Christopher. Do-don't let me d-die."

His heart now, finally, completely broken, Christopher choked, "Don't go. Stay with me."

"Stay with us," Wyatt begged. "You can't go now. Not _now_."

Lucy's chest rattled, air fighting for space in her lungs. Her eyes opened wide in confusion. She asked, "Chris-s?" Then, before he could stop it, her eyes glassed over. She whispered to the space around his shoulder with a weak smile, "O-okay-y, if-f you think-k so."

As the girl shut her eyes and her lungs didn't even try to reclaim the air it took to say those words, Christopher shook her shoulder gently to no response. His shakes grew stronger as he asked her repeatedly, "Okay what? Okay _what_?"

"Christopher," Wyatt sobbed, even though he knew he wouldn't get any sort of answer.

"No," Christopher wept. "You can't do this. Do you hear me? You can't leave me here alone. I can't do this alone. I — Don't do this!"

The only answer Lucy gave wasn't one of her own doing. As Christopher softly sobbed over her, the girl's body slowly disappeared, leaving her brothers empty handed and their father plagued with the searing image now of not one, but two of his children dying helplessly right in front of his very eyes.

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	7. Don't Confess

**Chapter Seven  
Don't Confess This Thing That Breaks My Heart**

**I.**

"_Horrifying_" didn't seem to be a good enough word to describe what was going on. At least, that's what Leo thought. "_Strange_", "_terrible_", and "_unreal_" didn't seem to fit how he was feeling either. Then again, words weren't really coming to him in a timely manner. They didn't make a whole lot of sense when they did manage to come through the thickness either. Words hurt too much, and yet, he couldn't stop thinking of them. Words were all that were keeping his mind together at the moment. If nothing else, though, he knew he had to be faring a lot better than his sons.

At the door end of the attic, he stood helplessly with his wife and her sisters, unable to figure out what in the world he should do. He wanted more than anything to go back to his sons and be of whatever comfort he could be, especially to Christopher, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to intrude. He couldn't see Christopher's face, but he could see in his son's frozen form that he wouldn't do any good over there anyway. He could _feel_ it; no hug was going to fix this, no platitude or gesture of kindness. All he could do was wait Christopher out and hope for the best.

He knew without looking at them that the sisters were watching the scene on the other side of the room with a certain interest, but it wasn't the same for them. He didn't have to be an empath to know that they were all worried for Christopher, but that was as far as it went. None of them wanted take their eyes off the other end of the attic, but they still needed to move along to "more important things": Phoebe was in trouble; Wyatt's fate was still in the balance. They had no way of knowing that what they had just witnessed was equally as important to them as any of the other million things that were always urgent for this family.

Piper was trying to be respectful but business-like at the same time, asking for his attention and an explanation in mortuary whispers. Even as she asked him again — _Leo? What is this? _— Paige was the one who seemed to understand that whatever they had just seen wasn't over yet and that her big sister needed to just shut up. While she started to tell Piper just that, Phoebe was growing more excitable, understanding all too well that things were more than likely going to get ugly. The way things were going with her own situation, she didn't know if she would have the time to explain that before she was out of the picture again. She didn't get to stop her sisters, though, before her other greatest fear of the moment shuffled itself right in the middle of the doorway.

"Is it safe to come in?" Victor unwittingly interrupted the girls. Bearing the two boys in his arms once again, he asked on about the other grandchild he knew to be in the room. "Did you find out what that noise was? Is Christopher okay?"

"Daddy, no," Phoebe rasped, whipping around. She immediately started pushing her father and nephews out the door, terrified of what would happen if the adult version of Wyatt were to see the infant version of his brother. After all, if Christopher weren't around to grow up, that would certainly solve a lot of Wyatt's problems in the future. He'd sent an assassin after the first Chris, but she'd failed. Why wouldn't he try to take his brother out all by himself this time? Looking over her shoulder at the two men on the other end of the attic, she gathered her father in her arms and started shoving as she whispered, "Take the boys and get out of here. Somewhere. Anywhere. You just have to go."

Unable to take his wide, worried eyes off his grandson, Victor shook his head adamantly. Soft but dangerous, he demanded, "Not until you tell me what's wrong with Christopher. Who's that guy?"

"Please, Dad, you _have_ to get the boys out of here," Phoebe urged, her voice struggling to maintain a whisper.

Scared, and a little upset that Phoebe seemed to be in on what appeared to Piper to be a badly kept secret from everyone but her, the eldest sister demanded, "Hold on. No one is going anywhere until someone tells me what's going on here. Since Leo isn't saying anything, and you seem to know at least something, Phoebe, what do you know?"

"Maybe it's a good idea if he goes," Paige suggested softly, her eyes flicking between Leo and Phoebe. "If Leo isn't telling us what's going on over there, he probably has a good reason. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to reverse Phoebe's spell before she knocks herself out again or worse. Besides, Wyatt is still freaking out whenever he's around grownup Christopher for more than ten minutes. I'm not sure what just went on over there, but I think we need to keep the boys out of here until we can figure out what to do. Christopher looks like he wants to be alone right now anyway. He can take care of himself. He'll explain when . . . "

On the other end of the attic, Wyatt Halliwell was confused, so confused. Hearing what sounded like his mother and her sisters bickering wasn't helping much to settle his mind or his stomach, either. He was trying so hard to remember exactly what had happened before his sister brought him here so that he could see her face without seeing the blood that was matted in her hair, but he couldn't get a lock on any of it. It was all so sickeningly muddled, like he hadn't really lived everything he was suddenly remembering over the last few years. The last thing he remembered was . . . God, he wanted to be sick. He tried to focus on what was going on around him, but that wasn't working either. He knew where he was and how he had come to be there; that wasn't the problem. Everything else was.

Wyatt struggled to try to place what was going on, but it was too much of a puzzle that was missing too many pieces to make a picture. He wasn't all that sure of it, but he knew something was horribly wrong with his life. He knew _some_ things, feelings and impressions mostly, some vivid memories that he wished he could shut away. There were times when he could _almost_ remember good things, like if he heard the right song or smelled the right scent, it would all come rushing back to him. But then, as quickly as his mind would lock on the answer, it would be gone in a puff of smoke, almost like it had never been a part of him at all. Suddenly he wouldn't remember why he was trying to think of anything in the first place.

He remembered the guilt, too. He didn't know explicitly what he was guilty of, but he knew it was his fault. He knew it centered around his little brother, the brother he knew would otherwise do anything for. There was this something about him, though, that he felt so guilty. It was all his fault.

Still the hurt of it was clouded in comparison. The shadow, the dark . . . He couldn't truly define it. But this, none of that compared with the cloud he was under now. He knew that his heart was breaking, seeing his baby sister vanish into thin air. Next to him, his baby brother was obviously falling to pieces. He knew he was a part of it, but he wasn't even sure how he knew. It was right there, and yet so hard to reach. Why couldn't he focus?

He could feel the eyes around the attic watching him and Christopher. He had no idea how much they knew about what was going on, or if they would tell him even if they did. To be honest, he was a little afraid to ask, which was a feeling he wasn't in the least bit familiar with. He knew how to be afraid. He was afraid every day, but this . . . He'd never felt like this before.

God, if only he knew what was going on!

Next to his brother, Christopher's ears finally shut out the squabbling going on between his mother and aunts. Their hushed voices, the bird outside the window, the sounds of everything around him had a weird underwater quality to them, like he wasn't really hearing them at all. It just became too hard to listen. It literally hurt his ears to the point that he thought they would start bleeding out. He hadn't moved yet, not that he could. It had been nearly two minutes since his sister's body had disappeared yet he hadn't even blinked. He was still on hands and knees, his head hanging low between his arms, chin almost to his chest. Even the muscles of his arms and thighs refused to twitch in pained protest to the position. It was almost as if he had somehow turned to stone.

Christopher oddly thought that to be able to do that would be rather fitting at the moment. Just turn to stone. It would be easier than anything else that he could do. He'd heard once upon a time that Paige had been turned to stone by the Titans before they were destroyed. He almost opened his mouth to ask her if it had helped, but he couldn't really form the question. Questions were too hard. Talking was too hard. The memories trying to invade his brain were too hard. Stone was a lot easier. If he were a betting man, he would lay all of his money down on the odds that he would never move again. It wasn't like he had anyone waiting for him at home anymore. What difference could it make now?

Five minutes. Damn. That was all he'd ever asked for before, and it had always worked. Somehow, though, he didn't think five minutes was going to do it this time. How long would it take the sisters to de-stone him if he could make it happen? Would that be long enough?

Like his son, Leo hadn't really blinked, either, even with Piper tugging on his arm for answers. It was taking everything he had not to walk over and put his arm around Christopher's shoulders to take the hurt away. In the back of his mind, he felt he needed to check on Wyatt as well, but then the image of the boy snapping the bolt in his own sister's shoulder came back to him, sickening him even further. Wyatt's pain, if he even knew the meaning of the word anymore, would have to wait. So would everyone else. Leo shut out the noise of his wife and her sisters bickering and even the softly growing cries of his infant son. Everything locked on that small space no longer occupied and the two boys guarding it. He watched, waiting for Christopher to move or speak, to give him any idea what he wanted his father to do. Christopher didn't move, though. Leo wasn't even sure if the kid was forcing himself to breathe. When he finally chose to speak, his son still didn't move so that his quiet words sank directly into the floor where his sister should have been. While the sisters went on and Victor joined them, only Leo could hear his boy's heart breaking into the bloody floor.

Then, just as the not-so quiet discussion at the door was growing to its loudest, a strange chord of silence interrupted the noise. Leo wasn't sure who created it, Christopher with his choked sob (a relieving sign to Leo that Christopher wasn't going to remain frozen like that forever) or Phoebe with her blurted plea with everyone to just shut up for a moment and listen to her. There was no doubt, though, as to who broke the ensuing silence, making everyone jump out of their skin.

While everyone else had been distracted by Phoebe's reaction to Victor's entrance, Leo had been the only one watching to see the change in his son. He was the only one ready for what came next, maybe even including Christopher. Even the night that he'd learned that Chris was his son (the first time) and they had come to blows, Chris hadn't looked like that. His boy was radiating such feral heat that Leo knew it was only a matter of seconds before the obviously grieving boy would explode. The crazy part of it was, after everything Leo had seen in the future, he could actually feel himself take an emotionally permissive step back. Christopher had earned the right to whatever he said next, and his father was in no mood to get in his way.

"Why are you crying?"

Everything Christopher had been thinking, all of the memories that had been flashing through his head, spikes of joy and pain came to an abrupt end when a sniffle near his ear caught his attention. He was almost positive that it should have come from himself, or maybe Leo, possibly. He didn't know for sure. He was that detached at the moment. But then, just as strong and lost, another sniffle brought his eyes from where his sister was no longer lying in pain to where their older brother was staring over at him looking rather boyish and helpless. Christopher couldn't remember ever seeing a look like that on Wyatt's adult face. His big brother, who for all intents and purposes had always exercised some degree of evil behavior, was actually _crying_. The jackass had put the entire magical world in chaos and was responsible for the deaths of countless, faceless creatures of all walks of life, magical and non-magical. Innocents and demons alike had suffered at his hands. And he had the nerve now to sit there and cry? He actually thought he had even the slightest right to cry? Hell no. _Hell_ no! He gave up that right a long, long time ago.

"_You_ don't get to cry."

Before Christopher even realized what he'd done, his balled fist connected with his brother's cheekbone, knocking Wyatt down onto his back. Suddenly without the support of his brother's chest to lunge at, Christopher, too, collapsed onto the floor. He quickly rolled himself up onto his knees as he had done his entire life. It wasn't something he even had to think about; it was merely self-preservation nature to him. The rest of it, though . . . Man, the rest of it he hadn't done in years. Wyatt had never let him get close enough to do it. Christopher didn't know exactly what he was doing, and he certainly had no idea what his brother was going to do to him for his brazenness, but he really didn't care at the moment. He was too lost to care. His sister was lost, leaving him alone with no one but Wyatt now. If he was going to be stuck with that jackass as his only living relative for the rest of his sure-to-be-limited days, he was going to have his say before those days ran out.

Grabbing on to the collar of his brother's bloodstained shirt, Christopher held Wyatt steady as his fist reared back. Fire burned in his muscles as it connected with the stone hardness of his brother's cheek again. Another strike sent Wyatt's shocked blue eyes shut in anticipation of a fourth punch. Christopher was all too happy to oblige him. After the expected fourth punch, Christopher used the bundled shirt in his other fist to haul his brother's reddening face up close to his so that Wyatt would maybe even feel the burning hatred churning in him as the words escaped him. "Are you happy now? You did this! She never wanted anything but to help you, and you did this to her! You did this to all of us!"

While Christopher stopped for a brief second to suck in another hot breath, his grandfather took a small step forward, handing off the smaller versions of his grandchildren to their mother and aunt Paige as he went. Ignoring the hand that Phoebe put on his elbow in warning, he made his way half way across the attic. "Christopher? Honey?"

Leo's hand shot out automatically to stop Victor as he tried to pass the one last person between himself and his grandchild. In case that wasn't enough of a hint, the Elder threw all the power he could get behind his voice and said, "You don't want any part of this. Trust me."

Knowing now that Piper was right, that Leo knew a lot more than he was saying, Victor turned questioningly to his son-in-law. After the talk that the three of them had had alone in the early morning, he knew he could trust Leo to always have Christopher's best interests at heart, even if it didn't always seem like it. But still, this seemed a little extreme. He glanced over to Christopher then back to Leo again. "Christopher wouldn't want us involved?"

Darkly, Leo affirmed, "He really wouldn't."

Seeing the confidence Leo had in his answer, Victor pulled back as well. He looked back at Christopher, who was rearing his fist back for what was by now a sixth or seventh knuckle-busting punch. Victor himself had lost count. Christopher didn't look like he cared all that much about the count anyway. Seeing such anger in his grandson so hurt him that he had to turn away. Instead he focused on the infant Christopher and wished that it would all be over soon. It had to stop soon, right?

Christopher didn't know how much longer Wyatt was going to let him keep this up. It wasn't like his brother to take one punch, let alone however many they were on by now. Not that Christopher cared about the _why_ at the moment. He didn't know what he was thinking. He didn't know what he was saying. All he knew was that, for once, he had control, and that was enough. He vaguely heard his grandfather, felt all eyes upon him. He pulled Wyatt up close again and gave his brother another swift punch to turn his head toward those eyes. With his free hand he scrunched Wyatt's hair into his fist and held his brother's head in their direction, growling, "You did it to her just like you did it to all of them. Look at them, standing there with their entire lives ahead of them. At least, they would have had lives ahead of them if it hadn't been for you. You ruined them. You ruined all of us!"

At his younger brother's second volley of accusations, something changed in Wyatt. He knew then what he needed to do. If Christopher wanted him to be evil, he'd give him evil. It wasn't like he had a clue what he should be thinking at the moment anyway. If he kept Christopher talking long enough, maybe some of the pieces would fall into place. As much as he hated the idea, he would have to let the darkness take over. With that determination, his eyes flashed from sadly compliant and understanding to viciously angry in an instant. As much as he knew he deserved whatever Christopher had to throw at him, he wasn't just going to take it, either. No longer would Christopher be allowed to throw him around like a doll. Stiffening his entire body, Wyatt reached his hand up to his brother's neck and squeezed hard enough to make Christopher hesitate for just a pinch of a second. The brothers looked into one another's eyes and both saw the same thing: they had been waiting a long time for this.

Wyatt flashed Christopher a quick, dangerous smile before it morphed into a devilish sneer. With one hand braced on the floor behind him, he tightened his suffocating grip on Christopher's throat until he had the strength to shove his smaller brother off him. Even without his powers from the Charmed line, Wyatt was still physically stronger than Christopher, who easily flew off his brother ten feet away. As Christopher climbed out from under a now-shattered table, Wyatt rose to his full, intimidating height. Menacingly, he raised his head, cricking his neck along the way, to reveal a much more familiar visage of cool darkness.

"_I_ did this," Wyatt fumed, swiping blood from under his nose. He stormed over to where Christopher was slowly getting up to meet him. All too happy to help the process along, Wyatt grabbed a handful of Christopher's hair and heaved his brother to his feet. Inwardly wincing at Christopher's hiss of pain, he silently pleaded, _God Chris, forgive me for this_. Outwardly, he pulled them eye to eye and seethed, "_You _two are the ones who betrayed _me_, remember?"

Furious with his brother's indignation, Christopher didn't even attempt to figure out if it was possible to break Wyatt's grip. He just swung his fist around wildly, catching a lucky shot. The punch cut up squarely under Wyatt's jaw hard enough to loose the stunned man's fist. A second swing released Christopher altogether, giving him room to catch Wyatt about the waist and rush him backward into the podium, smashing it back into its splintered state from a week before. The momentum sent Christopher tumbling over Wyatt into the window seat. Both brothers scrambled with cat-like reflexes back onto their feet, poised to charge one another again.

So focused were the two of them on each other and their long-anticipated confrontation that they didn't stop for even a heartbeat when Phoebe, being the only person to understand what was going on besides Leo, called out to them both. "Wyatt! Chris! Stop it before you really hurt each other!"

They didn't hear it, but Leo stepped forward and pulled Phoebe back to the group, despite her indignant grunts of protests. "The same goes for you. Let them go," he told her, watching over his shoulder as Christopher took another well-placed swing. "They need to do this."

They didn't hear Phoebe angrily accuse Leo, "You're willing to let your sons just kill each other? Have you lost your mind?"

Nor did they hear Paige quietly ask her sister, "His huh?" Nor did they hear their mother ask at the same time, "That's _Wyatt_?"

What Christopher _did_ hear made the sickness rise in his throat. He tackled Wyatt, even as his brother laughed at his sickness in a posed maniacal, psychological victory.

"Don't even bring the rest of them into this. It was your pal Charlie, and Victor and Sam and the two of you. You all betrayed me. She just wasn't smart enough to keep herself from getting caught in the crossfire." Wyatt laughed deliciously, even as a blow landed near his eye. "Be mad at me all you want, but at least be honest about it. She betrayed you, too. She was no saint. She wasn't perfect. She didn't wait for you; she went ahead without you and tried to bind my powers. When that didn't do it for her, she tried to kill me. She just got herself killed instead."

Positively livid, Christopher just started swinging. "Fuck you!"

Wyatt continued to laugh, as if the blows attacking (and just as frequently missing) his body were merely whispered tickles on his cheeks. In reality, it hurt like hell, but he couldn't let Christopher know that, not yet. Besides, the punches hurt a lot less than his words. It made him sick that his mind could even go to a place like that about her, about anyone. God, what had happened to him? He definitely deserved those punches. He didn't even reach up to block them. He didn't think he could defend himself, not for this. He just let Christopher hit him, knowing that the kid was going to tire out sooner or later. In the darkness at the back of his mind, he knew he was stronger than Christopher ever could be anyway. He could take a punch a lot better than Christopher ever could. He could take a lot of things Christopher never could, not that he ever really had to. Thanks to the last few years, people were too afraid of him to try. As if to prove it, the anger in Wyatt took over. He grabbed his brother's wrists and pulled them down hard so that they were practically nose to nose. Laughing and still hating himself as he did it, Wyatt threw his forehead into Christopher's but refused to let go of the kid's wrists so that he couldn't in any way pull away. With Christopher temporarily stunned, Wyatt made up a story based on what he could remember and told his brother, "Hate me all you want, Christopher, you know I'm right. I gave her one inch of sympathy, _one inch_, and she used it against me. You think I don't know that she was trying to lure me out into the open? Those Darklighters weren't there by accident. She warned them. She planned this three months ago when you left. The two of you were always plotting against me. I'll admit, it was amusing for a while. I mean, really, Christopher; did you honestly think I didn't know all about your little plan the day of Victor's funeral? Please. Just how gullible do you think I am? I knew what you were going to do long before I sent my people to the house."

Christopher barely heard anything Wyatt was rambling on about. All he could hear was the laughing making his blood pound furiously in his ears. He could feel it in his hands. They felt huge to him. The more he struggled to get free so that he could resume his attack, the harder it was. Still, with another well-placed hit to his gut, Wyatt let him go. Whether it was on purpose or not, Christopher took advantage of it and rained his fists back onto his brother's chest. The harder he tried to make contact with any part of Wyatt's body, the bigger his hands felt. He was starting to feel clumsy. Everything was collapsing in on him. It was all so close. It wasn't until he made one last connection with his brother's jaw that he could think enough to form words again. Even then, all he could manage was a savage sob.

"I _hate_ you."

A final surge of fury went through Christopher from head to toe, sending his heel smashing right into Wyatt's right knee. As Wyatt stumbled backward in a howl of pain, Christopher drew himself back to his full height and slowly backed away, heaving his breaths and trying to keep from throwing up at the same time.

Choking back obvious pain, Wyatt wryly chuckled through scattered breath. "Feel better?"

Christopher snarled, "Are you kidding me? Are you fucking _kidding_ me?"

"_Do — you — feel — better_," asked Wyatt slowly, punching each word like he was talking to a deaf man. He massaged his hands on his knee, panting. He never took his eyes off Christopher as his little brother stared at him in absolute confusion and disgust. It was becoming all that much easier to feign the anger as they went on. He was hurting something awful. But if it worked, well . . .Concentrating on the anger through the ringing in his ears, Wyatt hissed, "I mean, that's what you needed, right? You need me to say that stuff so that you can feel better about trying this. Because it doesn't work if I'm not evil anymore, right? It doesn't work for you to beat the hell out of someone who doesn't deserve it." A grin broke out on Wyatt's face, his eyes bright with something that almost looked like nostalgia. He chuckled wryly, "You always — _heh_ — you always had a little too much of Dad in you to throw a punch unless you had to."

Just as winded but knowing fully well that he could go another ten rounds if necessary, Christopher spat blood out of the corner of his mouth before asking, "So, what? This is just some act? I'm supposed to think that one tiny little spell has reformed you, that you are no longer responsible for every single thing you've ever done? That I'm supposed to just forgive you?"

Wyatt looked pointedly at the space where their sister had lain and said, "She seemed to think so." Thinking back on the last few minutes that the three of them had had together, he added, "And for a minute there, so did you."

Spitting again, Christopher snapped, "Yeah, well, she was a lot better person than I am."

"Really," Wyatt asked. He knew he had to get as much anger out of Christopher as he possibly could. The only way he was going to get to talk to his brother, not the guy who had all of this anger built up, was to get rid of that anger. He needed to talk to Christopher, _his_ Chris. So Wyatt went on, trying to say the most vile thing he could manage to stomach saying, no matter how many punches he was going to have to take for it. He could deal with the physical pain, no problem. It was the other part, the part of what Christopher was going to say when this was over, that he didn't know if he could handle. Still, he had to try. Spitting his insult, he said, "Is that why you've gone to all this trouble? Because _she_ was a better person? If that's what you thought about her, little brother, you didn't know her as well as you think you did."

"What are you talking about?"

Wyatt dug deep, not caring if he got hit again. Hell, he knew he deserved it and a lot more. If he and Christopher were going to talk, really talk, his kid brother was going to have to exhaust himself of all of this first anyway. Just because they hadn't been friends in years didn't mean he didn't still know his little brother. The easiest way to get his brother angry was to pick on the people he loved. For demons to do it was one thing, but he wouldn't stand still long if anyone else even thought about trying. Picking up where he'd left off, Wyatt bit back, picking on the person that would hurt Christopher the most. "Don't you get it? She set this up. She set it _all _up. The Darklighters knew exactly when to come to the manor. They knew we would be there because she had told them. It wasn't like I had her chained to a wall. I'm not _that_ cruel. She could come and go within the compound as she pleased. She's a cute girl. She probably made a few friends, whether they worked for me or not. There were plenty of them who would probably take a girl like her up on whatever she offered them."

Christopher didn't even want to think about what his brother was insinuating, not at all, mind game or not. Instead, he very calmly walked up to his brother, who stood up to meet him with raised fists. Before Wyatt knew what was coming, Christopher's foot connected with his brother's other knee, filling the attic with a howl of pain loud enough to make the girls across the room flinch in sympathetic pain and the babies to cry.

Finally thinking it was time to put this exercise in brotherly brutality to an end, Leo walked over and took his younger son by the elbow and pulled him back. Softly enough so that only Christopher could hear, the angel said, "Catch your breath. I'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

"Dad . . . " Christopher started but didn't know how to finish. He wanted to cry; he wanted to scream. He wanted to tear his brother's hair out. He wanted to pick up that damned sword and rip it right through his brother's gut so that Wyatt could feel even the slightest semblance of the pain he was feeling at the moment, if Wyatt could actually feel anything at all. He wanted his father to tell him not that his brother wasn't going anywhere, but that it was all going to work out. He wanted to hear that it was okay, that his daddy was going to make it all okay. He wanted his sister back. He wanted his grandfather and cousins back. He wanted them all back. Rolling his eyes to keep them from tearing up, he bit back a moan. "_Dad._"

"Just take a minute, okay?" Leo led a fairly pliable Christopher further away from his brother over to the window seat and stood his boy against the wall. "We'll sort this out. We will."

Sadly, Christopher muttered mostly to himself, "There is no '_we_' anymore. I'm it. I'm the last one."

With a ferocity that Leo rarely used, the angel promised his son, "We are going to fix this. I will _not_ — "

"She wouldn't do that," Christopher interrupted, still talking to himself.

"What?"

"She would never have done what he said," Christopher said a little more assertively, actually looking at his father for the first time since being pulled away from his brother. "I don't want you to ever think that she is capable of what he's insinuating. I don't know why he would say that. She would never . . . She isn't that kind of girl. He knows she isn't that kind of girl. I don't know why he would say that, I — "

"I know, Chris," Leo soothed. "I could tell."

Christopher again rolled his eyes to keep the tears at bay as he sniffed, "She always means to do the right thing. She just isn't very good at it."

Leo's hand came up to Christopher's face and wiped a tear away, a tear that was no doubt for his fallen sister. With a smile, he said, "Judging from what just happened, I think she was very good at it. She got them here, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but not exactly in one piece."

"She got Wyatt to you with her dying breath, Christopher. She got him to you so that the two of you could save him. That isn't exactly easy magic. You kids, you all treat this time travel like it should be the easiest thing in the world. You have no idea. That really took some magic."

Half laughing, Christopher lovingly disagreed. "Not so much. She's a total klutz. Seriously." He swiped the back of his sleeve over his eyes, gulping back what tears were left. He looked down at the floor for a second, regaining his composure. He couldn't cry, damn it. He hadn't exactly cried, but he'd still let too much get to him today. He couldn't do it. It would scare them all so much more if he let them think he couldn't handle these things. It was time to put the game face back on, whether he meant it or not. With that, the deep set determination that shadowed his every move returned to both his body and his voice. Back in work mode, he started pacing back and forth in front of the window, talking the problem out as he went. Softly and logically, he told his father, "She probably didn't even know what she did. She was probably just randomly trying anything that came to mind. It's not like there was a specific spell in The Book that we could find or anything. Believe me, we looked. We never could find an existing magical explanation for what was happening to him, but it was just . . . It was a feeling. We all felt it. Anyway, I think she knew that she was never going to get Wyatt out of his compound again before the baby was born. The Darklighters showing up was probably just a coincidence. She wouldn't have set anything up, but she would know to take advantage of it. I _do_ know her, no matter what he says. She didn't plan this. It was totally a fluke that she got it right. God, she is so crazy sometimes."

"Did Wyatt catch what it was that she said," Leo asked, seeing that Christopher wanted to work, nothing else. There would be time to make sure his son was okay later. "If it worked then, it would work now, right? Whatever happened, we could save him and put all of this behind us."

Christopher looked over his shoulder at his brother, who was still bent over trying to catch his breath. Feeling a twinge of self-vindication, Christopher looked away again, safe to talk. In a low whisper, he said, "All he said was that she was rhyming then it all went black for him. I don't think even he knows exactly what she did. I don't think he knows anything else. He wasn't mad like this before, but he seemed to know what he was talking about. Now, I'm not so sure. I don't think he knows. He tried to heal her, but he couldn't. He thinks she switched their powers, but that wouldn't explain him not being able to heal her."

"So that was why it was just a skin fight?"

"Oh, no," Christopher shook his head. "It would have been anyway. Even if all of it is a lie, if he still had them, he lost his powers as soon as he came back, same as me. It's the same rule for us as it is for the sisters. Only one version of our selves can have our powers from the family line in the past. The kids were here first; they get the powers. The only reason I can still orb — and I'm guessing he can, too — is because that power is from your side of the family tree, not theirs."

Sighing a breath of relief he didn't even know he was holding, Leo asked, "So he isn't dangerous."

Feeling a little spiteful and not really caring if anyone knew it, Christopher looked right at his brother and said, "I wouldn't say that." Loud enough so that the sisters could hear, he ordered, "Paige, do me a favor and keep your crystals handy."

Without even thinking about it, Paige immediately called the wooden box that stored her crystals for a magical cage to her and held it close at the ready. Hefting the box in her hands, her head jerked in surprise as she realized that her nephew had said anything to her. She looked between the boy she now knew to be Wyatt and her sisters, unsure. "Wait, is that really necessary?"

At the same time, both Phoebe and Christopher said definitively, "Yes."

Ignoring his aunt, who he figured didn't know any better, Wyatt glared at his brother. "Nice, Christopher. Really nice."

"Do you really expect him to react any differently," Phoebe asked, defending both her and Christopher's decision. It didn't bother her in the least to keep Wyatt at bay until they were sure he was safe to be let loose. "We all know what you're capable of."

"_Was_ capable of," he corrected her, starting to pace in time with his brother, even with the pain in his legs.

"'_Was_'? Really," Phoebe challenged from her perch on the sofa arm. "So that gaping chest wound we saw a minute ago _wasn't_ from Excalibur? It just happened to come with you, like you just happened to have it in your hand because you carry it around the way you'd carry so much loose change?"

Even in his confusion, Wyatt was together enough to know that he'd have to accept comments like that from Christopher. He wasn't entirely sure how or why, but he knew he'd earned it. But Phoebe, at this point in time . . . He hadn't done a damned thing to her. Angry, he hobbled closer to the rest of the family. "Really? And what do you think you know? Not that I owe you any explanations in the first place, but you don't have the faintest clue what our lives have been, Phoebe. It's not like you've been there for us, _ever_. Not now, not then. So really, I'd love to hear this: what do you think you know?"

The determined set Christopher had had to him downstairs still fresh in her mind, Paige took up for him with an equally dangerous step toward her nephew. "We know enough."

Surprised at the venom in his aunt's voice, Wyatt turned back to his brother, who was now leaning against the wall watching the scene with an almost amused expression. "God, Christopher, what did you tell them?"

"Only what they needed to know," Christopher said plainly. "Truth be told, they don't really have the slightest hint of what you've done."

"Of course, you were the innocent victim in all of it, weren't you?"

"I never claimed to be an innocent, but I didn't murder people either."

Phoebe saw Wyatt open his mouth to answer his brother, but just as she had known it would happen sooner or later, the memory of the other Chris pulled her away from her family before she could hear his retort or warn them that she was being hijacked once again.

Normally, it was something familiar about a scene that had triggered the invasion of her nephew's mind into hers, but for some reason, this time she was nowhere near the attic with the others. She had no idea where she was, but she knew that Chris knew exactly where he was going as he had orbed out of the attic and into a dank, dripping room of stone of some sort. She could taste the blood in his mouth as he'd bit into the inside of his cheek to keep from being sick.

In his head, Chris had been shakily telling himself, "_Don't look down. Don't look down. Not yet, not until you're done. He's got time. Just don't look down._"

Apparently that had been all the convincing he'd needed for the moment because Phoebe had no idea what it was that he had been trying not to look down at. Instead, she was drawn, as Chris was, to a swirling portal that opened in the middle of the sewer. She felt a hatred rise inside her nephew, one that she never would have imagined existed in him. She knew he hadn't even felt that hatred for Wyatt, no matter what he'd done. How he could hate a portal, she didn't know. Phoebe then felt her breath catch as she saw what Chris had been expecting. She had to admit, her feelings were a little on the dark side as well as the woman stepped out of the swirl and stopped suddenly, obviously not expecting Chris to be there.

"_I don't think so Leysa, not this time_," he warned her. Warned her from what, Phoebe didn't know, but she knew Chris did. She supposed that was all that mattered at that point.

"_What are you doing here_," the woman asked.

Phoebe felt Chris fight with himself not to reveal his true intentions. She knew he had a lot of things that he would love to say to the woman, but he also knew that he absolutely could not let his emotions take over or he was never going to do what he intended. He fought to keep his voice casual as he said, "_My plans have changed unfortunately. The witches, they found Leo sooner than I would have liked._"

"_That's not my problem. We kept our end of the deal._"

Again, Chris wanted to say something snide. He wanted to scream at the woman in front of him that he knew all about her intentions and deals. and that none of them were what they were supposed to be. Instead, he only went on calmly. "_I know, and I'm forever grateful. But I can't risk them finding out what I'm up to. I'm truly sorry._"

Part of Phoebe wanted to cheer Chris on for what he did next. If she had that kind of power (which she had no idea until now that he had), she probably would have enjoyed using it on a few demons herself. The other part of her, though, was a bit terrified to see her nephew exhibit such power. She wasn't sure if it was a telekinetic thing or a mental thing, but somehow, he crushed the woman's heart as it beat in her chest with a mere twist of a fist.

Inwardly, Chris was disgusted with himself for what he was doing. Phoebe could feel him trying to hold the bile back as he watched her fall to the ground. He almost let himself stop, telling himself that he would find another way, but in the end, he wasn't been able to make himself forget that all of the lives he was saving by taking one. She had been an innocent at the time, but it wouldn't have been long in his lifetime before she had turned. Phoebe could hear him telling himself over and over that he was doing the right thing, even as he whispered an apology to her. "_Forgive me,_" he said.

_Forgive us all_, Phoebe thought in the back of her head. She wasn't sure why, but somehow, the thought felt right to her. Whether she meant it for Chris or someone else, she didn't know. But she meant it.

She watched as Chris bent down and yanked the pendant off the woman's chest. There was a certain calm that came over him as he stood up, his mind turning back to the thing they had tried so hard not to look at when they'd arrived in the sewer. As Phoebe saw the fallen police officer, she cringed. The guy didn't look to her like he had much longer. Chris, however, didn't waste any time in retrieving the man's radio and calling in for assistance. When the voice on the other end of the radio responded, she felt Chris breathe a sigh of relief.

"_You're going to be okay, now_," Phoebe heard Chris whisper to the cop. She knew that he wanted to give him more reassurance than that, but he held back. She heard him thinking, though. _I should know, I've had dinner at your house countless times. The son your wife is pregnant with right now was my best friend until one of my brother's goons got overenthusiastic. He missed growing up with you. Maybe now he'll get a chance, so please be more careful from now on. _She felt his lungs catch for just a second as he pushed the thought down, not even allowing himself to see his friend's father's face. The acidic gurgling in the back of their throats anchored him in the moment, letting him move on before he could forget where he was and why he was there. _And miles to go before I sleep . . ._

Instead, Chris orbed out of the tunnel to what Phoebe immediately recognized as Valhalla as she somehow knew he had promised. She had always had a twitchy feeling that he had been there quite often, but now it was confirmed for her in the familiar feeling he had on landing. She knew that he knew exactly where to go, how to find his way around the island paradise. He expertly maneuvered himself through the paths until he stood at the top of a waterfall.

Suddenly, Phoebe felt an intense pain that she had in no way expected. Chris bent over, hands on his knees to steady himself. He let out what was for Phoebe a terrifying scream. She felt him suck in his breath as he fell heavily back against a tree and slumped down to the ground. God, it hurt. It physically hurt. He hadn't been allowing himself to think, but she could feel his hurt. His father had finally been avenged, but the compartment where he'd stored all of that hate for the man's murderer hadn't emptied like it was supposed to. Leysa was dead, but so was Leo. Somehow, now it all only hurt more.

Phoebe's heart broke then for her nephew. Once she had known who Chris was, she had understood the logistical reason for the kid calling his parents by their first names instead of their titles. It wasn't like they had known who he was, and in the end, he was right to think that they never would have believed him if he had told them immediately who he was. But there was something else there, too, that she now knew. It was pain. Ugly, horrible pain. He had seen both of his parents murdered. She knew without having seen it that he had seen both of their murderers brought down. But now she felt the childlike horror that she wished she could have been around to warn him about: revenge still can't make the hurt go away. Every kid has to learn the hard way that one day that their parents will eventually die, that one day they aren't going to come back. She just wished she could have told him that so that maybe they both could be breathing at the moment.

Lost in his pain, Chris didn't hear Freya come up behind them. Softly, with more compassion than Chris knew she would normally allow herself to show, she said, "_You look like you just lost your best friend_."

Sniffling then coughing to hide the tears, Chris thought, "_No, just my dad._" He waited a slight beat then solemnly told the Valkyrie, "_It's done_."

"_I know_," Freya said. "_I felt her go. My house is pure again. You have your revenge_."

"_I do_."

"_Yet you are not pleased?_"

"_You're going to analyze me now? Shouldn't I lie down on a couch if you're going to do this?_"

Freya looked on him in understanding, surprising Chris. "_I have seen wars beyond your imagining, Chris. I was there on Utah Beach. I was there at Gettysburg. I was there when Alexander started and ended his campaign across the globe and when Napoleon failed at Waterloo and on and on. And I look awfully damn good for a gal my age, don't I?_" Chris laughed in spite of himself, his aching shoulder muscles relaxing enough to help him breathe again. When she saw the tension leave him, she smiled at him. "_I've seen so much, Chris, not just death. I've seen what wars can do. I've seen what happens to a man's eyes when he's had enough even when he knows he has to go on longer. I've seen the defeat that comes over a man._"

"_What are you saying?_"

"_I'm saying, go on a little longer, Christopher Halliwell. I wouldn't have agreed to help you if I didn't think that you could accomplish what you've set out to do._" Phoebe watched with interest as the Valkyrie goddess produced two pendants from a small pocket in her belt and handed them over to her nephew. She squeezed his hand tight over the orbs. "_Hold on a little longer_."

Chris nodded gratefully at her, his breath finally returning to normal. Phoebe felt his mind compartmentalize again, the heaviest of emotions buried under years of self-training and necessity. Needing to change the subject, he then quietly asked, "_Is he okay? Myst said he's being . . . difficult._"

"_He is, but that's part of the fun of keeping him here._" A delicious smile played across the goddess's face without really telling them anything that Chris hadn't already guessed anyway. "_It's a pity that the Elders got to him before I could. I would have liked to have had him around a lot longer than just a few weeks. He's been fun . . . for my warriors, of course. But he _is_ safe, I promise. After everything you have shown me about the future, distracting your father for a few months is the least I can do._"

Chris pulled a face at the tone of her voice. "_Just don't do anything that would make my mother not take him back, okay?_" He gave Freya a half-cocked grin that then had quickly turned into a tight smile of bashful gratitude. "_I should go. Thanks for everything._"

"_Be careful, Chris_," the Valkyrie goddess cautioned. "_This is over now. Don't let the anger consume you any longer than it has to for you to accomplish your mission. Anything more than that, and what would you be fighting for?_"

"_You sure know a lot for a girl who doesn't get out much,_" Chris countered. When she made a face at him, he nodded. "_I know you mean well. Thank you._" He held the pendants up to his chest, clutching them close. "_Be expecting them. Make sure they get out safely._"

"_Your family will always be safe in my hands. Now go, before the sisters start to miss you_."

Phoebe could hardly believe it. Everything that they had been through to get Leo back, Chris had been in on in so many different ways that she couldn't even count. How could they not have seen that? She had felt that something had been up with him, but she had never imagined any of this. Unable to feel the pressure in her nephew's head any longer, she tried to force herself out of his memory. As they floated away in a cloud of orbs, she found that she didn't have to try too hard to get away. Whatever it was that she was supposed to learn from this memory must have been accomplished because the spell let her go without a fight at all.

When Phoebe was able to pull herself together enough to notice what was going on around her, her nephews were back to yelling at each other across the attic, looking worse for wear and far too tired to go back to killing each other. Still, she couldn't help but notice that Wyatt looked a great deal more bloodied than his smaller brother. She immediately knew, though, that she couldn't have missed that much because Wyatt was saying, "You think I don't know why you're here in the first place? It was never about '_saving_' me, not for you. Maybe it was for her and for Sam — I bet you didn't think I knew he was in on all of this, too, did you? — but it never was about me for you. It was all about everyone else. You had this chip on your shoulder about being the kid that everyone in the family ignored unless they needed you. You hated it that, even when I was clearly turning to the Dark Side or whatever the hell you want to call it, you still couldn't get anyone to listen to you because it was always about me."

"Only because you never thought about anyone but yourself," Christopher childishly countered, pushing himself off the wall again. He started pacing again, never taking his eyes off his brother. Unable to control his words, he beat out in time with his steps, "You were so wrapped up in how hard things were for you that you couldn't see what was going on around us. You couldn't see that the world was falling apart ,and you were falling right with it. But fine, it was all my fault. I made you evil. I made you unable to tell right from wrong. I made it so that you had to kill for pleasure and systematically take this family out one by one. I told you to gut your sixteen-year-old cousin like he was something you brought home from a hunting trip. I told you that it would be okay for you to let your goons drown your aunt for the fun of it because she might possibly have some sort of knowledge about nothing at all! Go ahead, keep going. Blame me for something else you did. Were you able to pick out one pair of black socks from all the others by yourself this morning? And you managed to brush your own teeth and make your bed without me there to tell you to do it? Wow, you've become such a big boy!"

Before Wyatt and Christopher could charge each other again, Paige orbed the box of crystals into their path. As the box floated in between them, the boys each skidded their pacing to a stop. Darkly, she warned them, "You both know what I can do with these when I want to. Don't think I won't. Both of you, knock it off, right now."

Phoebe was happy to realize that her distraction had gone unnoticed by her family as they all had remained focused on the two men from the future, even if things were starting to collapse again. Seeing the tension briefly calm between them again, Victor crossed the room, this time unhindered, to take his place at Christopher's side. The boys were put into their playpen, which Paige promptly took up guard in front of, the box of crystals back in her hands, still open and at the ready. Piper was the only one who hadn't really done or said anything. Leo looked worriedly on her, leaned close to Christopher to whisper something to him, then left his son's side to stand with his wife. He hesitated for a brief second, unsure if he was doing the right thing for her, then went ahead and grabbed her hand anyway. He was grateful when she didn't try to pull away from him, squeezing her hand to let her know that she could squeeze as hard as she needed to.

Piper didn't squeeze his hand, even though she was sure that was what he was trying to tell her. She didn't want comfort right now. She wanted answers. Comfort, just like the sadness she knew she should be feeling, could come later, when both — _all_ — of her boys were safe. Instead she let the other thing she was feeling, anger, take over as she softly whispered to Leo, "This isn't real. This just . . . It can't be real."

Apparently Piper hadn't been quite quiet enough. Wyatt glanced at his little brother, at the spot on the floor where Lucy had been, then turned to face only his parents. It took him a moment to be able to actually look at them without seeing their bodies the way he had last seen them. When he was finally able to look at them, it took everything he had not to look back down. Everything he had been saying had been for Christopher's benefit and, quite frankly, he had forgotten that the others were there hearing everything he was spewing at his kid brother. God, he must have sounded like a monster to them. Still, they were his parents. He had to be able to talk to them. If anyone was going to be able to help him get through to Christopher, it was them. After taking a deep breath, he took two cautious steps toward them, jamming his fists into his pockets. As if he could get some kind of understanding out of them that he knew he didn't deserve, Wyatt said sadly, "I'm afraid this is as real as it gets, Mom."

Piper flinched at the word "_Mom_". She was used to hearing it from Chris and Christopher, but then, she'd had plenty of time to get used to it between the two of them. To have this virtual stranger calling her by a familiar, though, this stranger who she only knew to be a danger to her family, was more than she could handle. Shakily, she told him, "I think that's close enough."

"Mom . . . " He knew it was probably a lot for her to see him after all she had probably heard, but still . . . She was his mother. When he saw her react again, he changed his tone and look, not even trying to play the Son card anymore, not until they had sorted some things out, anyway. "Look, _Piper_, I know you've been hearing a lot about me from Christopher — "

"You think?"

"And what just happened probably hasn't been much of an indicator otherwise," he said, waving that part of it off. He didn't want to think about how he'd managed to get there in the first place, not right now. Things were dark enough as they were. Instead, he went back to what he'd been trying to say before, hoping to keep his parents' attention on other things. "I know that what you've heard has probably scared you. I can't change that. I don't like that you know any of it. I wish _I_ didn't know any of it."

Leo looked on his son, surprised that he didn't feel the terror that he thought he'd be feeling when he came up against his child for the second time. Maybe it was just because he hadn't spent any real time with Wyatt as an adult like he had with Christopher, but for the most part, this man in front of him wasn't his son. He didn't feel that love for him the way he had for Chris and now Christopher. Instead, all he felt was something very un-Elderlike. At least, he wasn't allowing himself to admit to anything else. That would hurt too much. Those feelings crept into his voice as he asked incredulously, "You think _you_ wish you didn't know the things you've done? Do you have any idea how it broke your mother's heart the day she learned what you've become?"

Without thinking about what he was saying at first, Wyatt retorted meanly, "Don't you mean, if I _had_ a mother? Maybe if she hadn't traipsed off and gotten herself slaughtered, I would know what she thought about it. Instead, I just had to find a way to keep things like that from happening to anyone else in my life."

"You're going to blame us for what you've become? That's rich."

"You honestly have the gall to think that you're blameless in all this," Wyatt asked, his eyes wide with surprise. "Do you have any idea what — Christopher must have told you at least _some_thing about what our lives were like. You have to know what we went through. He's my _brother_. It was my responsibility to do whatever it took to protect him. You taught me that from Day One. You were all always on about me protecting especially Christopher. It was always about taking care of Christopher. And I did. Taking care of Christopher is my life. The more demons we manage to pick off from the bottom of the pack, the more powerful the ones are who are left at the top. To fight them takes power, more power than genetics could give me, even in this family. You left us. All of you left us. I had to do something to protect him, to protect all of them. If anything happened to him again, it would be my fault. You didn't leave me any choices."

Piper stared at her son with sadness, nearly choking on the words as she reminded him, "You always have a choice."

"And my choice was to keep my little brother alive, whatever the cost to myself," the young man retorted with all the confidence in the world. He didn't know too much about anything at the moment, but he knew in his heart that this was right. He would have died a thousand deaths to keep his brother safe, no questions asked. "Agree with my methods or not, I did what I had to."

"You really think that was what you were doing when one of your goons shot a Darklighter bolt into Lucy's shoulder," asked Leo. "Is that what you call '_protection_'?"

"It started out that way, yes," said Wyatt. "My people acted on their own on that one."

Forgetting for the moment that Piper had no idea who or what they were talking about, Leo went on, stunned with his son's sudden callousness considering he was telling them all about how he was anything but. He stepped in front of his wife, closing a little bit of the gap between himself and Wyatt. "You told me you would kill her if I didn't bring Christopher back to you."

"I don't owe you any explanations why. All you need to know is that I needed him back. I took a chance since you had no way of knowing that I wouldn't hurt her. I didn't touch a hair on her head after you left," Wyatt growled defensively. "I could never hurt her. Go ahead, ask her."

As soon as he said it, Wyatt realized what he'd said. He violently flinched, his eyes flashing wide and mouth hung open like a little boy's would if he were suddenly caught in a lie. After a moment, he slowly closed his jaws until Leo probably could have heard them fiercely grinding into each other. The man's face turned a sickly green as he took a few steps back away from his father, his eyes slowly closing to shut out the reality that no, Leo couldn't ask Lucy anything. None of them could.

"Oh, God . . . "

Leo watched carefully as his son's face fell. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he could feel his boy like he could Christopher, and he really didn't like what he was feeling. Confusion and fear were all that were there. This anger that he was seeing on Wyatt's face and hearing in his voice weren't there at all. There was plenty of terror and agony, but no anger, no hatred. Was it possible? Was it all an act? After everything that he had seen and heard, he had no way of knowing what was real. Based on what had been happening, Christopher couldn't tell either. If Christopher couldn't tell, how could any of them?

Wyatt's eyes caught his father's watching him. Immediately realizing that he was caught, he straightened up and then, just as he'd always done, Wyatt put his own feelings aside. It was what he did. It was what he'd always been told to do. He couldn't remember who had told him so, but he knew that was what he was supposed to do. He turned the helplessness he was feeling back on his parents, not caring if they deserved his anger or not. The only person's feelings he cared about at the moment were Christopher's. The rest could be fixed and explained away later. Roughly, he said, "You know, I get why Christopher blames me for everything that happened. You died on us, you didn't leave him with anyone else to blame but me. But it was you. You are the reason we're here right now, like this. You weren't there for us. You weren't there to protect me. You were my parents. It doesn't matter what some prophecy called me. You were supposed to take care of me! What did you think was going to happen to me when you were gone? Was I supposed to just figure out how to do it on my own? Well, then, you got your wish. Because I did do it all alone! So before you start complaining about the results, maybe you should look at yourselves."

Christopher's voice was remarkably calm as he ordered his brother, "Leave them alone."

No one was more surprised than Wyatt at the command. He turned around slowly to find that his brother had once again crossed the distance between them. He couldn't believe the anger he saw in his kid brother's eyes. He forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be egging Christopher on and instead asked honestly, "What?"

"If you want to yell at someone, you yell at me. They don't know anything about this. This is about you and me."

"The hell it is," Wyatt started. "They left us, Chris. Or don't you remember? Think about it." For the first time since his arrival, he was actually mad at something that he could remember actually being mad at. The words started tumbling out before he could stop them, not thinking about the fact that his parents were right there hearing it all. He was too angry to care. He could feel everything coming back to him like it had every day, the absolute fury and anguish that controlled his every thought. He reached up and grabbed Christopher by the shoulders, trying to force his brother to remember things the way he remembered them. His voice was thick as he said, "Think about that night he died. We were little kids. I was eight years old, and I already had demons chasing me down day and night. Eight years old. Yet I was supposed to protect you and all of the others? What were we supposed to do? Don't you remember how he screamed when none of us could get the arrows out? And then the night that — "

"Stop it."

"What's the matter? Truth hurts?"

"Leave it alone, Wyatt. I mean it."

"No," Wyatt snapped back. "You know, you seem to have an awfully selective memory when it comes to our family history. They were all angels and never did anything wrong. They didn't contribute in any way to the disaster that we became. That's what _we_ are, Christopher, not just me. We. You and me, we are both walking wrecks because of what they — "

Before Wyatt could finish that thought, Christopher did the only thing that he could think of to shut his brother up. He swung back and clocked him hard on the jaw. He hated that he was resorting to a violent reaction again, but at the moment, that was all he could think of. It seemed to be the only language that Wyatt understood anymore. Besides, it was easier than listening to what his brother was saying. Anything was easier than listening to Wyatt. The truth was, part of Christopher believed him, and that was the last thing he wanted to believe right now.

Automatically, Wyatt swung back, unable to control his reaction. It wasn't until his fist connected with Christopher's eye that he felt the pang of what he was doing. Silently, he begged to be able to take it all back, even though the voice in the back of his head laughed at him.

"All right, all right already! Good grief!" Victor shouted, stomping over to the two of them before either of them could get in a second shot. He forcefully grabbed each of them by the shoulders, still mindful of whatever injuries they might have incurred in their knockdown-dragout. With his left arm he pushed Wyatt back away from Christopher, with his right he pulled Christopher behind his shoulder. "That's it," he warned them both. To Wyatt he ordered, "You in that corner." To Christopher he said, "And you in that corner. Now. Until the two of you can sit in this room together quietly, without yelling, and without throwing punches, you are not to speak to each other, do you hear me? I mean it."

Wyatt stared at his grandfather like he'd just fallen and hit his head on something very hard. What were they, five? "You're kidding, right?"

Victor looked his grandson dead in the eye. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"He's right," Christopher said sullenly between heavy breaths. "Just . . . I'm done, okay? Just go away for a while."

Piper watched the scene with interest because, to her surprise, Wyatt relented as soon as Christopher asked him to. He didn't look entirely happy about it, but he went and hid himself in the farthest corner of the attic. She had known for a while now that her father exerted at least a modicum of control over her youngest, but she had no idea how much power Christopher really had over Wyatt. To tell the truth, she didn't think Wyatt knew how much control Christopher had over him, either. But there it was.

Victor pulled Christopher's chin up so that they could look one another in the eye, but Christopher tried his hardest to keep his head bowed as his grandfather wiped some blood from his lip. "You okay?"

"I . . . " Christopher started but couldn't finish. He just shook his head and walked away so that he could be alone in the corner again while Victor helplessly watched his beloved grandson slip away.

In the deathly quiet that ensued, not a one of the Halliwell family seemed to know what to do. They all just stood there, helplessly bewildered and lost. None of them had really had any time to process exactly what was going on around them. Wyatt was there, from the future. It didn't seem so strange that Christopher was there, not after having at least a version of him there for the last two years of their lives. But to have Wyatt there, it seemed so . . . unnatural? Not possible? Just plain freaking weird?

It was eventually Paige who broke the silence, her brain too tired to figure anything out. "What do we do now?"

Gently, Leo suggested, "I think . . . Piper, I think you should go sit with Wyatt."

"What?!"

"He's calming down," Leo suggested hopefully. "And he's still our son. He's hurt, and he's angry, and he needs us just as much as Christopher does right now. I saw him when Lucy died. He was just as devastated as Christopher was. I can't explain it, but I _have_ seen a change in him since he got here. The things he's saying, they don't make sense with what he. . . I think he's more likely just very lost and angry. Give him a break. I really think it's okay for you to talk to him. I'll join you in a few minutes. I'll check on Christopher first and then I'll be over. The things he said to us — I really think he could use a talk with you right now. I've been dead to him a lot longer than you have. He needs you, not me."

Piper eyed her husband suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

Leo chuckled as he cited mantra. "Future consequences."

Her hair puffed up as Piper let out an angry breath. "I swear to God, if I ever hear those words again, I am going to shove them down someone's throat." Still, she relented and asked, "Any advice?"

"Whatever else has happened — and we don't know exactly what that is from his point of view — he is still ours, and he still needs his mother. Talk to him. If you can get him to do the talking, all the better."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say," Piper grumbled as she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "You're getting to deal with the neurotic one, not the psychotic one. Next time, _I _get to deal with Chris."

"Deal," Leo smiled down at her. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

With that, the parents went their separate ways. Phoebe, Paige, and Victor waited and watched as the two of them carefully approached their charges. Once they saw that both of the boys were allowing their respective parent to approach, they took off into their own worlds as well. Victor went back to the younger boys while Paige and Phoebe went off to do whatever it was that they did in a family crisis. He had long given up trying to figure out what exactly it was that they did. As long as they did it well, he didn't care. He just wanted his daughter and his grandsons to be safe again.

Across the room, Leo crouched down in front of Christopher, putting them nose to nose. When his boy didn't react to him, Leo reached his hand out and pulled Christopher's chin up. There was such a broken look on the boy's face that Leo let himself fall back to sit on the floor. He grabbed Christopher about the shoulders and pulled his son into his lap, cradling the boy's head. He started rocking back and forth, stroking his son's hair. Softly he whispered, "I'm so sorry. If I could bring her back for you, I would. I would bring all of them back."

"It should have been me," Christopher wept. "She didn't deserve this. This was my plan, my idea. I'm the one who went against him, not her. She was just along for the ride. I . . . It should have been me."

"Don't you say that! It shouldn't have been any of you," Leo argued softly. "Not you, not her, not Sam, not Charlie, not any of you. Christopher, this isn't your fault. Do you hear me? You didn't do this to her."

Christopher didn't argue back. He had no intention of agreeing with his father, but he just didn't have it in him to argue at the moment. His heart hurt too much.

He could see Wyatt huddled over in the opposite corner, their mother standing over him, trying to make him take the ice pack that Paige had conjured for him until their father could go over and heal him. It seemed absurd to him. He was being consoled by his dead father (putting aside the technicality that his old man had always been dead), and his evil brother was being comforted by their dead mother. It seemed ridiculous and almost comical at the same time. The Halliwell family's prize fighters were in opposite corners being tended by their managers, waiting for the bell to ring in the next round.

In the center of the room, he could see the younger versions of themselves, guarded by their grandfather, playing in the playpen. They looked so happy together, oblivious to the terror going on around them. They looked like they might actually have been brothers and friends in some long ago possible future. They had no idea that they would one day be here again just like this, loving and hating one another until their blood ran cold.

Lucky them. Ignorance really was bliss.

Christopher turned his head away and buried it in his father's thigh. He clutched tightly to his father's waist, giving in to the grief of everyone and everything around him. Sobbing, he asked, "How did we become this? How did we grow up from them to this?"

"It isn't over yet, Christopher," Leo offered hopefully, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as he was his son. "We still have a chance. We have a lot of chances. We're going to change this so that none of this happens again. You're still with us. You didn't die at Gideon's hand this time. We will fight this. She won't die like that. She's going to see her baby come into this world, and that baby will grow up to have babies of his own."

"We can't stop him," Christopher moaned, not really caring if his brother heard him or not. He just couldn't care anymore. It was only a matter of time before Wyatt ended him the way he'd done the rest of the family anyway.

"Yes, we can," Leo said strongly. It was time to buck the kid up, get him back up off the floor to remember how he had come here in the first place. He'd been strong enough to do this before. Leo wasn't about to let the kid forget that now. He helped Christopher to sit back up and smiled at him his best Whitelighter Confidence smile. "You know we can."

Still dejected, Christopher threw his head back against the wall and asked darkly, "You actually still believe that?"

"Yes, honey, I do, and so do you."

Laughing bitterly, Christopher asked, "Oh, yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Because you and I both know that you've had enough training from Charlie that if you really believed Wyatt irredeemably evil, you could have killed him just now. Am I right?"

"Maybe," Christopher admitted, however unwillingly. "Or maybe it just means that I'm too weak to do what needs to be done."

"I think I'll go with Option A, and I think that if you think about it, you will, too."

"Maybe . . . "

Leo hauled himself to his feet, stretched his hands down to his son, and pulled the boy up next to him. He gestured to the windowseat and steered the bloodied boy to sit down. Seeing that Christopher was finally breathing normally again, he knew that it was time. The adrenaline was wasted, the exhaustion was going to kick in. He waited for Christopher to settle himself in then let his hands do their magical glowy healy thing while the boy leaned his head back against the cool glass behind him. When he was done, Leo grinned down into Christopher's tired eyes. "Do me a favor? Take a little break? Take ten minutes. Don't worry about Wyatt or Phoebe or any of this. Just take ten minutes for yourself to relax. I hate to put it this way, but our problems will still be here in ten minutes, even with your help. You're going to be of a lot more help to your brother and your aunt if you just clear your head. Can you do that for me?"

Finally realizing that he was probably too tired to think anyway, Christopher nodded without saying anything. He didn't have to. He just reached up and held on to the hand that gripped his shoulder, everything he needed to say in the one gesture. After a moment, he released his father's hand and closed his eyes, granting Leo permission to stop worrying about this particular son for those ten minutes. How they were going to be after that ten minutes was up, he didn't know, but they would cross that bridge when they got there. For now, he just wanted to actually take the doctor's advice. It was time to rest.

**II.**

Hiding out in the only quiet space not yet occupied in the attic, Phoebe was intently watching everything that was going on between the brothers and their parents. She couldn't help it — part of her was completely fascinated.

In the weeks that she had been living with Chris's memories in her head, she had come to a whole new understanding of him and the life he had led before he came to them. She had seen happiness with him, she'd seen tragedy with him. She had known his fears and heartache like she had never imagined. She hadn't been able to tell the others that the empath blocking potion was in no way helpful at all. She was constantly feeling everything he had felt now, even if he wasn't focusing on a specific memory. She knew now. It was no wonder he had been the way he was. Living with the things she could feel him living with was suffocating, to say the very least.

She wondered how he would feel right now if he could see what had been happening here in the attic. Certainly he would be disappointed if he knew that he hadn't saved his brother like he had wished so desperately to do. But now that Wyatt was here, seemingly afraid of what he had become, would Chris have been able to help? Would he have been able to even look Wyatt in the eye? Could he have listened?

Phoebe was lost in her wonderings when a tired-looking Paige flopped down next to her. Her younger sister still managed to force a wry smile onto her face as she leaned her head on Phoebe's shoulder. When Paige didn't say anything, she asked, "You okay?"

"I could use a drink about now, but yeah, I'll be okay."

"That's twice in one day that you've had a thought like that. Is it that bad," Phoebe asked.

"I'm not sure," admitted Paige. "It's all a little much to take in, you know? I mean, you and Leo have had a certain advantage on the rest of us. You at least knew what Wyatt looked like in the future. To see him there, the sword and blood and the . . . Poor Piper."

"It was still pleasantly abstract until he showed up," Phoebe agreed, even though '_Wyatt_; the concept, had shown up for them at different times. "We didn't have a visual of what he was going to be like. He could just be a story we heard that was never going to come true. But now . . . "

"But now," Paige sighed. "So who do you think the girl was? Do you think she's the one that Christopher was telling us about earlier?"

"She doesn't exist in any of our other Chris's memories. What she was to the Chris we have here now, I don't know. To tell you the truth, I don't think we want to know. I mean, I'm sure we can assume that she was since he said that there were only the three of them left, but . . . I saw the look on Leo's face. It's killing him that he knows who she is and that she died like that. I don't think we want to know any more than that."

"Do you think — ?"

"I think that if Christopher wants us to know, he'll tell us."

Paige almost laughed. She settled instead for a raised eyebrow in Phoebe's general direction. She was too tired to do anything else. "That's an interesting change in attitude coming from you."

"Yeah, well, having Chris stuck in my head has made it pretty obvious to me that the whole '_Future Consequences_' thing was for a good cause. I don't like knowing what I know. I wish I didn't know any of it, even if it has helped me understand his motives a lot better. He was a great kid, and I'm really proud of him for what he managed to survive to get here, but I would rather not have to know. When this is over and our nephews are safe, I don't want to have to remember any of this. It's too much."

The younger sister took her head off Phoebe's shoulder long enough to wrap the same arm around her sister's shoulders. She then let her head drop back onto her sister's shoulder in comfort. Softly, seriously, she asked, "Pheebs, are you sure you're doing okay with this? What can I do?"

"As much as I love him, I will be one happy camper when we get my little nephew out of my head for good. He's going to make me just as jumpy as he is here pretty soon."

Reassuringly, Paige offered, "There has to be an answer here somewhere, right? We just need to find a new place to start looking. Where that is, I don't know, but it has to be around here somewhere."

"Yeah . . . "

Before Paige could really get herself excited enough to give her sister a pep talk, a shadow loomed over their position on the floor. From above, Leo offered a small, "Hey."

"Hey," both girls said back.

Leo nodded down to the youngest sister, seemingly all business. "Paige, can you do me a favor and go down to the bathroom? That ice you orbed up for us isn't going to be enough. I healed Christopher the best that I could, but I think he's resisting. I have the feeling Wyatt is going to do the same. They both want the pain, believe it or not. I think it's making them feel better. But I'm not going to let either of them get by with it entirely. I need any of the First Aid supplies we have."

Wryly, Paige nodded. "This place is looking a little too _Fight Club_, isn't it?"

"Thanks," Leo said, leaving it at that.

"How's Christopher," Phoebe asked once Paige had hauled herself up off the floor and out toward the door.

"As good as can be expected, I think," Leo shrugged. "He's got a lot to deal with at the moment. I just wanted to check on you, see how you're dealing with the physical part. I need to fix something right now, and it doesn't look like either of my very stubborn children are going to let it be them."

"So you came to your even more stubborn sister-in-law? You know that they got that from me, right?"

Leo chuckled softly, the closest he could remember coming to a laugh in quite a few days. "If you really need to believe that right now, sure."

Phoebe looked beyond Leo's legs at the defeated-looking boy sitting in the window seat. "He's not looking so hot right now."

"Neither are you." Leo got down on the floor in front of his sister-in-law, looking Phoebe's face over with sadness. He definitely didn't want to know what Chris had done to get that. Trying to remind himself that Chris hadn't had that pain in a long time and that it was Phoebe who was in it now, he pulled his attention in on her. "That shiner looks nasty; how does it feel?"

"Not too bad, actually," Phoebe lied with a wry smirk. "I'm barely noticing it now, as long as I don't laugh or talk or cough or think too hard. I think that if I can keep Chris from deciding to remember any more violence, I'll make it through this thing just fine."

The angel looked like he didn't really want the answer to his question when he asked, "It's been pretty bad?"

"There have been moments," Phoebe said softly. "But I've learned a lot about him, too, as weird as that sounds."

"I guess I should find that comforting."

"You should." Phoebe stopped for a moment, trying to figure out something that she now knew she needed to tell Leo, before the moment could slip away from her. "There _is_ something that I think you should know, actually. I . . . I know you figured out that he . . . er, Chris . . . _Chris_ knew that you figured out that he was the one who trapped you in Valhalla."

"I wasn't one hundred percent positive, but yeah."

"You need to know that he did it to protect you. He never meant for it to hurt you or Piper. He needed the Valkyries' help when he first got here. It was the only way he could see to get himself closer to us. And he had his other reasons why it had to be the Valkyries."

Leo eyed his sister-in-law suspiciously. He knew then that she had a secret that she was dying to tell because she just didn't know how to keep them, but she was obviously having a hard time getting it out. "And you aren't sure how to tell me?"

Phoebe sucked in a deep breath and held it in her cheeks for a moment, trying to find the right words. She let it out in a big puff, frustrated and sad. She took his hand, squeezing it hard. He needed to hear this, she knew. He needed it a lot more than she did. She started slowly, struggling with saying it all out loud. "Leo, you need to know about . . . The Valkyrie that you thought he murdered . . . In Chris's time, she left the fold and used her warrior training to hire herself out as a magical assassin. She was one of Wyatt's top go-to killers. She — Chris chose her for a reason."

"Then he did kill her," Leo stated more than asked, disappointment tingeing his words.

"He killed the woman who murdered his father in order to save him." When she saw the surprise on his face, she soothingly added, "He saved you this time because he couldn't the last time." When he still didn't seem to comprehend what she was trying to say, Phoebe squeezed his hand hard enough to make him look up from the floor to meet her eyes. "He didn't hate you. He was just trying to be able to look at you without seeing what had happened to you. You were murdered right in front of him. Leo, he held you when you died. I could feel what he was feeling when it was happening. Even when Prue died, I didn't feel like he was feeling at that moment. How he managed to find enough strength to . . . He loved you so much."

Phoebe could hear the lump in the back of Leo's throat as he protested, "But he told me that he hated me. He told me that I was never there for him."

"He was angry," she argued. "The world you were living in before he came to us was complete chaos. You were so wrapped up in trying to keep him safe that you didn't hear him when he tried to tell you about Wyatt. You didn't hear him until it was too late. No one knew about Wyatt but him. The thing is, after he told you on the bridge that you didn't make time for him, he was mad at himself for telling you that. He said it to hurt you because he didn't know what else to do. That's all. All he could think about was how angry he was at you for dying. I don't think any of us understood just how angry he was about what had happened to him. He was left so alone, Leo, seeing each of us die off one by one. His mind was so brutalized, but he kept it together enough to get here. As difficult a time we as gave him, it was still good for him to be here. He understood that it wasn't your fault, especially after the two of you worked things out. He understood a lot. It was the difference between seeing things as a kid and seeing them as an adult. At least, that's what he thought."

Leo chewed on the information, trying to remember that Phoebe was trying to do him a favor, not make him feel worse. "She killed me?"

"She did." Phoebe chuckled in spite of herself. "Kind of funny don't you think, considering how hard you were trying to prove that Chris was evil and had murdered her for no reason? Okay, maybe it's not that funny, but you know, ironic . . . "

"How old was he?"

"Not quite nineteen. It took another two years for him to get things together enough for him to come here." Sighing, Phoebe tried to steer the subject back to the Valkyries as a few things were finally coming together in her own mind as well. "He made some sort of deal with Freya. She knew that he was going to kill Leysa. She willingly handed over the other two pendants we needed to get there to rescue you. He knew all along that he was going to have to help us get there. He thought he was going to have to lead us in eventually. Nothing went as planned, though, especially after Paige used Wyatt to find you. But _something_ must have gone right because of this thing that Christopher was telling us about this morning, this snow garden thing. There must be something good that came out of your time there that we don't know about yet, something that that Chris didn't know about but this one does. I mean, look at him. This one at least made it to twenty-five. That's a two years that he got through that our other Chris didn't. That has to be something, right?"

In the back of his mind, Leo was still fixating on the idea that his son had killed for him. God, how he had hoped that nothing like that would ever happen. Still, he supposed that it wouldn't ever come to pass now. The Chris sitting in the window sill was proof of that. He'd said that he had lost _his_ father when he was just six. Maybe, in some weird way, things had been able to work out to spare Chris from having to make that kind of choice again. His choices now were hard enough.

"What are you thinking," Phoebe asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Just that . . . well, it doesn't matter," Leo shrugged her off. "We need to fix this mess and get on with our lives so that my kids aren't making deals of any kind." With that, he slapped his hands on his thighs and hauled himself back up. He held his hands down to Phoebe and pulled her up. "C'mon. Break's over. Let's get back to work before anything else decides to go wrong today."

"I'll get back to The Book," she said. "You should check on Piper and the boys."

Leo nodded. "I'll need to take a look at that cut when Paige gets back up here, too."

"No problem, Doctor Dad, once you fix up your kids. Wyatt's looking a little worse for wear. I never would have imagined Christopher could throw a punch like that."

Almost amused, Leo admitted, "I don't think he knew he could either."

**III.**

In their respective corner, Piper was cautiously attending Wyatt, letting her father and husband alternately take care of Christopher. She knew Leo had been right to send her in Wyatt's direction, however angry she was with her eldest. Ever since their little discussion in the kitchen last night, Christopher seemed to be a little wary of talking too seriously with her. She didn't think this was really the time to try to test her son's boundaries any further. He would let her help him when he was ready. Wyatt, surprisingly enough, seemed to be much more eager to spend a little time with their mother. Maybe it was because she didn't have any experience with him yet or that she had fewer mistakes with him than she did Chris. She could work with that, regardless of his present good or evil leanings, if it worked in their favor.

When his mother touched the ice pack to the swelling under his right eye, the eldest Halliwell son hissed in pain. He brought his hand up to grab the bag, but found his hand instead on top of hers. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if closing them would keep the idea of his mother being alive from becoming a mere fantasy. Softly, he said, "I've missed you so much."

Piper didn't mean to, but she immediately pulled her hand away from under his, her determination faltering for a split second too long. She saw his eyes fly open in surprised hurt. Instantly, she felt awful for pulling away from him. "Sorry. I . . . "

"Not exactly the motherly instinct I remember you having, but I guess I understand," he said apologetically.

"Do you?"

Wyatt leaned his head back into the corner of the sofa, eyes closed. He brought his knees up to his chest, effectively blocking Piper from reaching any of his injuries any more. He threw his forearms over his knees, letting his hands flop hopelessly in front of him. It looked like it physically hurt him to admit it, but he said, "Christopher looks at me like that a lot."

Suspiciously, she asked, "Should he?"

Wyatt looked up at her question, startled by the directness of it, even though he knew he shouldn't be. "I don't know. Probably. I'm going to guess that whatever he's told you is probably good enough reason for you as well. I don't . . . He looks like that a lot."

"What do you mean, you don't know? How could you not know?"

"I mean, I don't know. Things are kind of fuzzy right now."

"Fuzzy how?"

"I don't remember a whole lot. I remember you didn't always answer a question with a question," Wyatt said, trying to relax her frustrated features with a joke. When she didn't appear even slightly amused, he closed his eyes again. Colorlessly, he told her, "I remember things happening, but nothing is very clear except for this afternoon. I remember feelings, and I remember being scared all the time, but it's — I also remember control and power and not being able to fix anything, no matter what I did. I don't know how to explain it."

Piper was so torn. She knew that her son needed her and had no problem with deciding to help him. There was a sort of mental block, though. Part of her hated that she was feeling anything for this boy, this monster, who had terrorized her other son and God knows who else, but she couldn't help it. He was still hers, no matter what he did. He looked so worn that she just couldn't put those feelings aside enough to not care. If nothing else, she had an obligation to him to find a way to help him so that they might be able to save him from ever having to go through this again. Get him to talk, Leo had said. So get him to talk she would. Gently, she urged, "Try."

Wyatt flinched and immediately changed the subject. "How's Christopher?"

"He's with your dad."

"That's not what I asked."

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man," Piper snapped. She was only going to be so patient with him, even if she was feeling a little more motherly toward him than she wanted to. She was his mother. She had a right to ask whatever she wanted in this circumstance. "You can see him when he's ready to see you. For now, I need you to start filling in the gaps here. What are you doing here?"

"Christopher is here. The spell brought us to Christopher."

"The girl who came with you, did you . . . Did you have anything to do with her dying like that?"

Wyatt opened his eyes, so tired, and looked his mother dead in the eye. "No, I didn't. She was attacked. I know you don't have a lot of reason to believe me. You don't know me. All you know is what you've heard from Christopher. Truth is, you probably know more about me than I do right now. But even in the middle of all of this, I _do_ know that I wouldn't have hurt her. I would never have hurt her."

Piper shook her head, her concern stretching into suspicion. "Yeah, see, I wish I could believe that. But, unless I'm mistaken, she is the same girl that your father and brother were telling me about this morning. They said you took her with you when Christopher tried to escape from you. It was her blood that was all over his hands and shirt when he came here."

His voice very small, Wyatt said regretfully, "She wasn't supposed to be hurt. I don't know how to make you believe me, and I know I keep saying it over and over, but, neither of them was supposed to be hurt. I would never hurt them, Piper. You have to believe that I would never hurt either of them."

The ice pack that Piper had been holding flew up into the air, tossed up in frustration. She caught it with a heavy snap of her wrist. "All evidence to the contrary," she said emphatically.

The bruising young man wiped some blood from near his eye and held up his fingers to show his mother the rusty smear. "I think I took most of the damage, thank you very much."

Glancing into the mirror where she could see her other son reflected, she had to admit that the elder boy had sustained a great deal more injury than the younger. When she looked back at Wyatt, he was staring at the redness that would no doubt be a very angry bruise in a few hours on his knuckles. He looked like he was angry at his fists for being at all. Surprised that she was thinking it, she didn't realize until she'd said it that Piper said, "You _let_ him hit you."

"He needed it," Wyatt said simply. "He needed it, and I deserved it."

Piper didn't get around to saying anything in response to that. Paige coughed to announce her presence. Wyatt wouldn't even look at her as he let his head sink into the space between his arms. Piper looked up at her sister, not exactly annoyed but feeling a moment slip away that she knew she wasn't going to get back.

Paige shrugged her apology as she bent over and whispered in Piper's ear, "Leo said to tell you that he'll fix Wyatt up whenever you want, but that if you're getting anything out of him to take your time."

"Yeah, thanks," Piper said softly, reaching up to take the bandages and hydrogen peroxide from her sister. "I think maybe I have it covered for now."

"Wyatt?" Paige asked for his attention. He barely lifted his head to look at her. She tried to smile at him, still not sure how to look at him. "Leo wanted me to tell you that if you start to have trouble breathing that you need to tell him right away."

"Why would he have trouble breathing?"

"Christopher told Leo that he thought maybe he'd heard a few ribs crack when they were, shall we say, _creatively negotiating_ their situation. Christopher was worried about him."

_Yeah, that sounds like Chris, W_yatt thought. Only Christopher could care about what was happening in this corner of the room when he was probably hurting something awful himself. His voice small, Wyatt asked, "Could you maybe tell him that I'm okay? Tell him nothing's broken. He doesn't need to worry about me."

Paige gave her nephew an odd look. Their initial meeting hadn't gone so well, but somehow, she still felt something for him. Maybe it was because he at least cared enough to ease his brother's mind with what she could tell was a blatant lie, but something clicked for her. Suddenly she understood how it was that either Chris could still care about his brother, no matter what he had done. She had to admit, it wasn't all that easy to see Wyatt as something so evil that he wasn't still theirs, not when he looked at his brother like that. Sympathetically, she told him, "I will."

"How is he," Piper asked.

"He is," Paige said simply. Not wanting to intrude any longer (or to get trapped in a conversation that she didn't exactly want to have at the moment), she jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the potions table. "I really should get back to work on Phoebe's thing. If you need me . . ."

Wyatt watched his aunt walk away, feeling a little more comfortable with her this time. He saw her go quietly over to Christopher and say something to him. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at his brother, but he could feel Christopher looking at him as Paige walked away. He could always feel it when Chris was watching him. It had always been that way, ever since they were kids. He didn't know how, but somehow Wyatt knew that that connection between them was one of the things that had kept him anchored in the world. Part of him had always known that, whatever it was that was going on with himself, Christopher was going to keep him from falling too far. Chris had always been good at that.

He then watched Paige walk over toward Phoebe, put a hand on her shoulder and whisper something to her, then head over to the potions table as promised. He took his first real look at Phoebe. It was probably hardest to look at her, but for the moment, he couldn't really remember why. He knew he had done something to her, but when his mind got too close to remembering, it quickly disappeared. He knew he should feel guilty about it, though, really guilty.

Focusing on that, he asked his mother, "Phoebe has a problem?"

"We're working on it," Piper said. "But right now, I think you and I have other things to work on. You never answered my question. What's going on with you?"

"Piper, I really don't — "

" — want to talk about it with me? Tough. You have a lot of explaining to do, not just to me."

Wyatt almost smiled, but couldn't quite get there from the pain in his face. "No one has talked to me like that in a long time."

"Well, maybe someone should have and then we wouldn't be in this mess."

Before he realized what he was doing, Wyatt snapped, "Maybe you and Dad should have lived, and you could have been around to talk to me however you wanted."

Piper pulled back a little, feeling a more than just a little defensive. Angrily, she retorted, "So we're going to go back to this? It's our fault you've gone off the deep end because we died? I hate to break it to you, kiddo, but I'm pretty much willing to bet that it wasn't my decision to leave you, and I know it wasn't your father's either. I would never have left you on purpose, never So you can stop blaming me any time now, and we can get down to the real problem here because I highly doubt that my dying, no matter when it happens, is going to make your mind any less capable of processing what's going on around you in Technicolor. My death didn't make things fuzzy. Your father's death didn't make you suddenly incapable of distinguishing right from wrong. So, darling boy, I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop blaming us for everything and start talking."

Feeling a little on the defensive end himself, Wyatt looked his dead mother straight in the eye and told her, "Well, it's pretty easy to blame you because you're the last thing that I really remember."

"What are you talking about?"

"If I try to think about it, most of my life is barely even impressions, but if I want a clear memory, there are two that I can't get rid of, no matter how hard I try. I can't tell you a whole lot about anything right now, but I can say without a doubt that the last thing that I remember clearly about my life, the first thing I hear when I wake up in the morning is you screaming as you were completely eviscerated by a demon because I had to make a choice between saving you and saving Christopher. He was smaller and wasn't as comfortable with his powers as you were. He was my little brother, my responsibility. I could only choose one of you, and he needed me more. But you weren't being careful. You were so busy watching us instead of taking care of yourself like you should have been that you didn't even see him shimmer in behind you. You didn't have time to tell us that you loved us or _goodbye_ or anything. You left us. You left me alone to hear that scream every minute of my life. And that is pretty much the only thing I have heard for the last seven years. Everything else became a blur. I remember always thinking that I had to protect them, that the family needed me. I remember being scared that I couldn't do it. I remember being terrified all the time that I was going to make that one mistake that would cost them everything. I remember feeling completely out of control, that it was my need to protect them that controlled everything because otherwise I had no control at all. It was just deep and dark and nothing."

Trying to hide the tears that wanted so badly to fall, Piper set her face in stone toward her son. If she couldn't have comfort right now, maybe her boys shouldn't either, not if it got them through this. She needed facts right now. She needed to help them find out what had happened to them, and she needed to do it now. Business-like, she pushed, "_How_ out of control?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm wondering, is it possible that you were wrong before? I know what you just told Christopher, but do you think that maybe you really haven't been as in control as you think you've been?"

Wyatt looked up at his mother, dark curiosity in his eyes. If she was right . . .

They weren't afforded the time to keep working on Piper's thoughts, though, as Phoebe's voice called for his attention. They both looked over at her, her voice drawing everyone in the family to her.

"I really love what you've done with the place, big brother," she said into the middle of the room, not really focusing on anything that anyone else could see. "What do you think Mom would say about your choice of velvet rope? I would have gone with the blue myself, but the red, that's classy."

"Oh, good grief," Paige grumbled. "Phoebe, snap out of it!"

As if that command was actually enough, Phoebe shook her head and looked over toward Paige's voice. "Sorry, what?"

"He — You were doing it again," Paige explained.

"Nope, not that time," Phoebe shrugged. "Sorry. I was just . . . I was thinking about something. I take it I was thinking out loud?"

"Don't _do_ that," Paige snapped.

Wyatt watched his aunts intently, more out of a need for a reference point than anything else, but whatever it was that they were talking about didn't ring any bells for him. Deciding that the best policy here, until he knew better, was to go ahead and ask, he put his thoughts about Christopher aside — but not far away — long enough to ask. What was the worst she could do? Say no? Granted, people didn't tell him '_no_' all that often these days, but still — "Something going on I should know about?"

Piper regarded her son carefully, trying to figure out just exactly who she was dealing with here, her son or their nightmare? Unwilling to truly accept the latter, she changed the subject back to him, needing to know what had happened to him. "It's nothing we can't handle. I'm more worried about you and your brother. What happens with the two of you now? Can I trust you to play nice?"

"That's up to him."

"Why?"

"Because Christopher is an adult, and as much as I would like to, he's proven on more than one occasion that I can't _make_ him do anything. Whatever happens next, it has to be his move."

Piper watched as Wyatt carefully avoided her gaze. Whether that was because he was hiding something or because he needed to be looking at anyone but his mother, she couldn't tell. Softly, she said, "You seem to be awfully forgiving of him considering some of the things the two of you were saying to each other only a few minutes ago."

"He makes me mad as hell sometimes, but I could never really hurt him. If anything ever happened to him . . . Well, _we'll_ deal with it. He's my brother. There's nothing more important than that, not to the magical world, not to me."

The mother shook her head, trying to collect her focus. "You see, you say that and I want to believe you. I want so badly to believe you. I want to believe that everything that has happened isn't your fault and that you really had the best intentions for your brother. I want to believe that what happened over there was entirely an act. I really want to believe that."

"But . . . " Wyatt urged.

"But I don't know you. The only experience I have with you is watching you fight with Christopher, saying whatever you could to hurt him. And then, when you took a break from pummeling him, you said whatever you could to hurt me and your father. If you were in my shoes, what would you think?"

"Probably the same," Wyatt admitted. "But how often in your life have you been wrong about someone and learned to see things from another side? Forget what happened after the Seer tricked him for a second and think about it — wouldn't Cole still be a part of this family, welcomed, even though he was a demon, because he proved otherwise to you? You took Victor back, even after he virtually abandoned all of you. Can't you at least try to hear me the way you heard them?"

"I'll make you a deal. Until you prove otherwise, I'm going to go with Christopher's version of events, and considering your scattered memory, you probably should, too. But I'll give you this next statement to be completely honest. The next thing you tell me, I will believe — or at least, you have the opportunity to make me believe you."

Wyatt didn't hesitate in the least. Looking Piper directly in the eye, he said, "Everything I do is for Christopher, for his safety. If anything ever happened to him, it would be my fault. I will never take that chance again. Never."

"Wait a minute. You did it again. You said '_again_'. When we first talked, you said that _'if anything happened to Christopher again, it would be my fault_'. What did you mean, '_again_'?"

"I did?"

Excited to possibly be on the road to getting somewhere, Piper pushed, "Think about it. There has to be something. Did something happen to Christopher that you remember, before this '_darkness_'?"

"I remember a lot of things. That's the thing. The things that I can remember right now without having to try too hard is the bad stuff, stuff that happened to you or him or one of the others. To keep those things from happening is what kept me going. That fear and that need, they were all I had. That pain is all I've known now for so long, I don't think I can remember anything more than that."

"I think maybe you know more than . . . Well, not that you know it, but you know it, you know?"

"I take it you're subscribing to Christopher's theory that I was somehow under the thrall of some demon or spell or something?"

Piper almost wanted to laugh. "I believe the proper term he uses is that you were '_bodyjacked_'." A little more seriously, she asked, "I take it you don't believe him?" When the man didn't offer her an answer, she went on. "I guess my question to you then is, if you _were_ in control of yourself, how do you explain these lapses in memory? This darkness you don't know how to describe, how do you start to explain that?"

Wyatt opened and shut his mouth like a fish out of water, as if the explanation was a bubble that could just come out. The longer he was silent, the more contorted his face became until he couldn't stand it any longer. A muffled curse was all Piper heard from him as he dropped his head between his arms.

Softly, Piper told him, "Think about it. I mean really think about it. I bet you know more than you think you do, otherwise you wouldn't be assigning blame here. Maybe it is your fault, maybe it isn't. You owe it to yourself and to your brother to find out, don't you think?"

Wyatt effectively shut down then, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. What if his mother was right? What if he really hadn't been in control? What if all of his worrying, all of the constant thought that if anything happened it would be his fault hadn't just come from him? If he let his worry control him, what else had he let control him? Was Christopher really right? Had he somehow been lost to them? Had he really left his baby brother alone in the world?

Oh, god.

He looked over to where Christopher was sitting in the windowseat, looking so lost and alone. Had he really put that look in his kid brother's eyes? He didn't look like Chris. He looked like a stranger, a beloved brother who had gone off to war, only to come home someone that could never be changed back to who he had been. How much had Christopher seen to get that look in his eyes? How much of it was his fault?

_All of it is your fault_, the same old familiar voice said in Wyatt's head, the one that he had never been able to shake in his lifetime. _You did this to Christopher, nobody else. You._

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

_You did it again. You always do it. No matter what you say, you're going to do it again. I did this to him _because of you

**IV.**

No one had really been paying attention to Christopher for a while. Even Victor had left his grandson to be in his own little world for a few minutes since the boy hadn't been all that responsive to his grandfather's comforting efforts anyway. Christopher had been all too happy to blend into the background for a while. He was finally starting to feel the bruises that hadn't quite appeared from under his skin yet. His bones were tired, so tired. He wanted to give in to the tired for a few minutes, but he was too tired to make the effort.

Christopher's eyes fixed on the pool of blood that he and Wyatt had trampled through, making him sick. It was her blood. It was all over the floor now in booted and bare footprints. He knew the blood was on his hands, too, now buried under his brother's blood, but he couldn't bring himself to look at them. That was _too_ close.

He looked away, trying to find anything else to focus on. He needed something that couldn't hurt. The problem was, everywhere he looked, he found something that hurt as bad. He could hear his brother trying to justify his actions as "protection" and cringed. In his head, he knew that it had started that way. In the last few years, Wyatt saying so had become a parody of what it was like when they had first argued about the direction Wyatt had been taking. In those days, Christopher had known that his brother really had been doing everything for him and the others. He had known and still knew that Wyatt really had cared. There was something in his brother's voice as he was talking to their parents that clicked in Christopher's head, telling him that maybe, just maybe, this really was Wyatt and that he really was safe again. It was tearing Christopher apart, not knowing if he could actually trust what he was hearing, not when he wanted to hear it so badly. He knew that if his grandfather and sister could hear it, they would be just as wary. But they couldn't be there to hear it, never again. His grandfather sitting at his side was killing him. It had been only a few days ago that he'd been sitting at his grandfather's bedside, watching him gasp his last breaths, still struggling to tell Christopher how he needed to keep fighting and not to forget that he wasn't going to be doing it all alone. He couldn't look at his father all that easily either. The man had been gone from his life for so, so long. When he'd found Leo in the attic last week, he hadn't known exactly what to do or say. So many times in his life he had wanted nothing more than for his father to be there to hold him. He'd wanted to erase that image in his head of the arrows in his dying father's back so that he could remember only the good things. It was the same for him to look at his mother or his aunts. Maybe it was just the nature of time and death, but they had been the most radiant, beautiful women in his world. To look at them here, so young and unaware of what lie ahead for them, it hurt. There was no safety for him. There wasn't anywhere in this room that he could look without it bringing something into his mind that destroyed any sense of peace he could scrounge for.

In his head, he knew he sounded like a whiner. He knew it. It's not like death wasn't a part of life. Of course it is. Just because the Halliwell family lived in extraordinary circumstances didn't exclude them from having to deal with the everyday facts of life. Victor's death was a perfect example of that. In the end, it wasn't their lifestyle that had killed him. It was plain old nature. Heart troubles. He should be grateful for that. Victor got to go free of the dangers of being a part of this family. So what was he doing sitting there moping like it was something more?

Christopher was angry, more angry than he could remember having been in a long time. The last few years, he hadn't been angry. Part of him had been afraid to let himself get angry. Anger is what led Wyatt to become what he was. In a way, he wondered if that had made things easier for Wyatt. He felt things too much. He got to feel. Christopher hadn't allowed himself to feel for so long.

But if this was how it felt to feel again, maybe he was better off without it. If life had to hurt this much, what was the point?

He saw it, then, that damned sword lying there where he had tossed it aside. It was so . . . he didn't know. It was both beautiful and ugly all at once. In the old days, it had saved the family. These days, it had ended the family. There really hadn't ever been any in between since Wyatt had come to possess it. In some ways, it was just like Wyatt — beautiful and ugly all at once. Christopher hated it.

Furious now, Christopher channeled his anger into the energy he didn't have to get up off the floor. Suddenly renewed, he stormed over to the sword unnoticed by all but his grandfather. He thought he heard Victor call to him from far away, but he was too locked on what he knew he needed to do that he didn't really comprehend his grandfather's call. As if there was nothing else in the room but Excalibur, Christopher marched over to it. He bent over and picked it up, looking at it as if were glowing at him. He could feel a sense of power in it, even though that power was in no way meant for him. He hated that it was meant for Wyatt. That wasn't right, though, either. He didn't hate that his brother was meant to be powerful or wield such power. That had never really bothered him. He knew he was powerful in his own right. Truth be told, they were equally matched in that department, although differently. And he'd never really hated Wyatt for his power. He hated how Wyatt _used_ that power, but he didn't hate that he'd had power. He hated the power itself. He hated this goddamned sword. He hated it.

Hated it.

Hate it.

Hate.

He _hated_ that _fucking_ sword.

The fury kept right on building in him until his entire body felt hot. His ears burned, his hands twitched. He was grateful he didn't have anything on his feet. It was too damned hot. Somehow, he knew that it wasn't entirely because he was angry, either. It was the sword. It was channeling his anger. Stupid sword. It had no idea that he could use that to his advantage.

Christopher let Excalibur slip from his grip for just a second, catching it again as it fell. He bounced it again, hefting the weight and hating how it felt in his hand. He let it swing in what would otherwise have been a graceful arc if it weren't for the anger in it. He swung it again and again, hearing it sing at him as it cut through the air. Then, his anger at its height, he grasped the tip of the blade in his free hand and, with a feral scream, brought the flat of the blade smashing down on his thigh. He wanted more than anything to break the damned thing and have this all be over. But wanting wasn't having. Wanting only gave him a pain that he was sure was going to leave a nasty bruise surrounding what he was sure was a pretty deep gash in his thigh in the morning. Still, he knew it needed to be done. They needed to be rid of that sword. So again he brought it down on his damaged thigh, only to be disappointed again.

His frustration mounting, Christopher took the sword to the already wrecked podium. That didn't do anything either. He chipped away furiously at the potions table, not caring that little potion vials were exploding around the sword but not effecting it at all. He hacked and hacked, willing the sword to at least chip a little. Instead, it only laughed at him as he swung it through the air with repeated strokes, the singing sound now taunting instead of beautiful. The more he swung it, the more it teased him. Hot tears left streaks on his bloodied cheeks that he didn't give himself time to notice.

He didn't notice his father and grandfather shouting his name either. Why he should, he didn't know. He didn't even know that he'd been wailing in pain since the first swing of the damned thing anyway.

Wyatt watched his brother futilely battling against something that he couldn't in any way fight, knowing that what Christopher really wanted to kill he couldn't. He didn't know how he knew it, but he knew. At least, he thought he knew. It was in every swing; it was in the pain of his little brother's screams. He knew Christopher was killing him with every stroke of the blade. There was no other explanation. And maybe it . . . maybe it would be better for them all if he would let Christopher have his way. He didn't exactly want to die, but if he couldn't be '_saved_', maybe it would be better for them all. There was enough clarity in his mind to know that he was the reason his brother was in so much pain. If he gave Christopher the right chance . . .

Slowly, Wyatt walked over to Christopher, intent on taking that sword away from his smaller, slowly weakening brother. If he got the weapon away from him, great; if he were somehow wounded in the process, great. If that could manage to be a mortal wound, all the better. Christopher may be the smaller of the two of them, but he was also faster and could get a punch in under the radar (as he'd so eloquently proved earlier). Maybe it was a death wish, but Wyatt couldn't help it. Christopher was _his_ responsibility. The others, they weren't really theirs anymore. They weren't a part of things like they seemed to think they were. This was between him and Christopher.

As if he were talking to a spooked horse, Wyatt asked in his calmest, softest voice, "Chris? Hey, little brother, can you hear me?"

Christopher didn't hear his brother. Instead, he hacked away at the remnants of the podium again, grunting with the strain he was starting to feel in his arms. He could feel hot tears burning at his cheeks, but they only made him madder. What the hell was he doing crying? He should have gotten over that years ago. He didn't have anything left to cry over. Angry that he couldn't even control his goddamn tear ducts, he swung the sword even harder.

Unable to listen to his brother's angry sobs any longer, Wyatt ducked in behind the kid and grabbed him about the waist. He threw his own weight back, thinking it would pull Christopher down with him, but Christopher had been on a particularly strong downswing and pulled them both forward. The next thing he knew, an elbow caught Wyatt in the nose, sending him reeling backward.

"Fine," he grumbled through the hands that clutched his nose. "Have it your way." Wyatt stalked across the attic floor, angry again. When he was a safe distance away, he pulled his hands away and glared at Christopher, hoping to catch his brother's attention from afar. "Damn it, Christopher. Would you just knock it off? Stop acting like a spoiled little brat and talk to me."

Another scream spewed from Christopher's gut, throwing his head back in fury. His knuckles burned white as he squeezed the hilt of Excalibur. He swung himself around in a half circle, his arms pointing straight out and holding the sword in a strong, double handed grip. He finished off the circle, arcing the sword up over his head as he went until he'd completed his furious turn, slamming the tip of the blade down into the scarred wooden floor in front of him. Still unsatisfied, he brought the sword back up and, without even thinking of where it was going, just let it go. The weapon flew hard and fast, but light as a dart until it embedded itself into the wall, just to the left of Wyatt's ear.

Christopher looked at his brother, who was staring back at him with completely shocked eyes. It was a miracle that Excalibur had missed at all. Wyatt could feel the steel cold against the back of his ear. That's when Christopher realized that it wasn't shock that he was seeing in his brother's eyes. It was reality. It was the realization that he could have died then without Christopher giving his death a second thought. It was what he now knew Christopher had seen in his eyes oh so many times over the last few years. It was reckless and thoughtless. It was how he'd survived. It was the last look he'd ever wanted to see in his baby brother's eyes.

Terrified at what he'd almost done, Christopher slowly backed away from everyone, not wanting to be touched. It wasn't until he ran out of room that he was able to stop himself. Even then, he was too stunned to want anyone near him. He slid down the wall, curling himself into as small a ball as he could manage.

Worried, Wyatt started to charge forward, calling out to his brother. At the same time, Piper broke away toward her son as well.

"Yeah, not a good idea," Piper snapped at her eldest child, even as she tried to remind herself that she was talking to a man who was no longer the Enemy. It broke her heart to glare at the man as she held her hand out at him, keeping him at bay. She knew she didn't mean what she was going to say, but if it kept her kids apart at the moment, she was willing to say just about anything. "You ju- . . . you just stay away from him. You're the reason he's hurt in the first place."

"No, Mom, I'm sorry, but you are," Wyatt retorted defensively. Seeing her hands locked in her defensive position, he flinched. He nodded toward her hands and grumbled, "But kill me, by all means. I'm sure that will fix our problems right up."

"Young man, I don't want to hear you talking to your mother that way," Victor interrupted oddly. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he laughed at himself. He looked around the room and chuckled at the expressions on the faces of all of the others, particularly Wyatt. The boy actually looked _apologetically_ at him. Without a word, Wyatt nodded his apology at his grandfather. Happy to accept the apology if it would calm a few tempers in the room, Victor smiled and nodded back. "Good boy."

Wyatt looked to his father, to the surprise of them both, hoping for some backup. "This is between me and my brother."

"Your brother or your enemy?"

"My brother. And only my brother."

Leo wasn't sure why, but he knew that he could believe his son this time. Whatever else was going on in the kid's head, he seemed to be genuinely concerned for his brother. If that could bring him a little closer to the Wyatt that they wanted to see instead of the one he had seen in the future, then . . . He waved his son forward with a permission step back. "Go ahead."

Piper looked at her husband with total disbelief. "You really think that's a good idea right now? You saw Christopher just now. They're going to kill each other, right here, right now. They are seriously going to kill each other. You realize that, don't you?"

"Let him go," Leo told her soothingly. "They'll be okay."

Wyatt walked cautiously over to his brother, careful to keep his pace. He knew that if he went too fast, it would only spook Christopher anyway. When he was a few feet away, Wyatt dropped to his knees and ignored the fire in them to crawl over the rest of the way, slowly reaching his hand out to touch Christopher's knee. As much as he could, Christopher pulled him body even further into himself. Gently, Wyatt kept going. "Chris, honey, it's okay."

"Don't touch me."

"I just . . . I need to see if you're hurt."

"God, Wyatt, don't touch me. Please."

"Christopher, I need to be sure you're okay."

"Okay? There _is _no okay. I almost killed you, Wyatt. How can you . . .? How did we end up like this? It wasn't supposed to be like this," Christopher whispered stonily, his head hopelessly hung between his shoulders. His voice, soft but strong, didn't even shake, just like the rest of him. Only his inability to put his thoughts into words immediately betrayed any hesitation in his eerie stillness. "It was _not_ supposed to be like this. That was the whole point. We _knew_ that things couldn't have been meant to be so hard, not like this. We both said it. We both _believed _it. It couldn't — it can't be meant to be like this, not this. Not for her. Not for any of us."

Everyone watched Christopher, wanting to do something, but Wyatt was the first to move. He didn't care if it meant that he was going to be hit again or not. He had deserved all of that and more. He knew that. If he had been stronger . . . But he wasn't, and he couldn't change that. Not yet.

He didn't say anything. Somehow he knew that he shouldn't. He'd said enough. Instead, he sat down on the floor facing his younger brother, cross-legged and patient. He rested his elbows on his knees and just watched his brother's sobs until Christopher's entire body was wracked with them. Still Wyatt didn't say anything or touch him or do any of the things that brothers were supposed to do. He hadn't earned that right, and he knew it. All he could do was wait, just like everyone else in the room. At least he could be the first one there, like it used to be, when they had been friends.

His wait wasn't as long as he thought it would be, though. Then again, part of him was expecting that he would be waiting forever for Christopher to ever want to talk to him again. But it didn't take anywhere near that long as Christopher's overbright and bloodshot eyes looked up, not to his parents, but to his big brother for an answer to the one question that they had all asked themselves far too many times.

"Why does everything in this family have to be like this," Christopher whispered, sounding all of five years old and angry beyond all tantrum. "Why? Why do we have to keep going through all of this, day after day, year after year? Why are we supposed to keep doing this, risking our own lives for complete strangers and the rest of the world when all it ever brings us is pain and suffering? Why do we have to watch everyone around us die? Who decided that we had to be the ones with this goddamned family legacy? I don't want it. I don't want it anymore. I don't want any of it."

Wyatt didn't know what to say. It wasn't like he hadn't asked himself those same questions so many countless times and had yet to come up with an answer that would satisfy. He was pretty sure that there wasn't an answer anymore. For the first time in a long time that he could remember, he just wanted to be honest about it. He'd spent so much time believing that if he just had enough power, they wouldn't have to ask those questions anymore. But now . . . "I don't know, Christopher. I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you to say anything. You're just another part of it that I don't understand. You can't have answers for something like that. We thought we could save you. We thought that it would all make sense again if we could just get you back. I used to think we could beat it. I used to think that there was a reason that we were here, that we hadn't lost our purpose to spend our lives protecting the innocent instead of battling our own selves. But then you left us all alone and we didn't have a clue what . . . God, I don't know what the hell I'm saying. Why I — why did you have to pick that fucking thing up? If you had left it alone, if you had never tried to use it . . . "

"What? Excalibur? You think that's what — "

Christopher swore again under his breath, cursing the sword to the depths of wherever it had really come from. "It didn't make you evil or anything, but it didn't help, either. Whatever it was that took you away from us, Excalibur was just as much a part of it. It used you until you were ready to use it. If you had just left it alone, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have been taken away. You wouldn't have left us."

"I never left you," Wyatt said quietly. He still didn't understand it all himself, but somehow he knew that, even when he wasn't really there, he was still there. He hadn't been gone completely. He was so tired. He knew he'd still been fighting it every step of the way, whatever it was. He was the reason that Lucy had come to live with him instead of being left to die. He was the reason Christopher was still alive to find a way, any way to save him. How he was going to explain it without it sounding like some cockamamie excuse, he had no idea, but he'd find a way. But for now, what mattered was that Christopher know it. He could deal with everyone else later. Again, needing and pleading with all his heart that Christopher would hear him and believe him, Wyatt said forcefully, "Christopher, look at me."

As he'd done so automatically for so long, Christopher obeyed his big brother, even though he wasn't sure why. His eyes, so lost, met his brother's in search of an answer.

"I didn't leave you."

"I wish I could be sure of that," Christopher said mournfully. "I really do."

"Why can't you?"

"Because if you didn't leave, you were always there, and that means that you really did all those things, not something else. It means that all of this was for nothing."

Wyatt tried to find a way around his brother's logic, but he wasn't sure that there was one. He wanted so badly for this to be a black and white issue, that it was true that he was either evil or he wasn't. He knew that he hadn't been evil. He could never have turned on his family legacy that way; he could never have turned on his brother that way. But of all the things he could remember . . . There had to be an explanation in there somewhere. There had to be. And they would find it, together, no matter what, just like their father had said. "Listen to me. I don't know what is happening here, and I don't think I ever will really understand, but, I'm here, aren't I? I couldn't have been that far away if I can be here now, right?"

"But all those people, Wyatt, I mean — all the demons and the violence and the 'protection' on the house and the demons in the house for our 'protection' and all of it . . ."

Wyatt felt that darkness in him again, that darkness that told him that he had wanted things just as badly as whatever it was that had control over him, if indeed something had had control over him. He didn't like what it wanted to say, but somehow he could feel that it was right, too. God, he was so confused about it all. The only thing that he wasn't confused about was that everything he had done had been for Christopher and the others. There was never any doubt in that. Helpless to feel any different, he asked pleadingly, "Do you get what I did for you? Do you? Grandpa couldn't protect you, not like I could. I had to. Because every night that I went to sleep, I heard the demons in my dreams. I heard them every waking minute of every day. This was the day, this was the day that I wouldn't be smart enough, this was the day that I wouldn't be fast enough, this was the day that I wouldn't be powerful enough to keep you alive. This was the day that they were going to win. Do you have any idea how terrified I have been every minute since Dad died? It was up to me, just me. Do you understand that I never would have been able to live with myself if anything had happened to you?"

"You happened to us, Wyatt! You were the thing we were most afraid of!"

Devastated to hear those words, and even more destroyed because he somehow knew that they were true, Wyatt begged, "Please don't say that."

"Would I be here if that wasn't the truth?" When Wyatt didn't (or couldn't) say anything to that, Christopher stared at his hands, trying to think of anything to fill the silence. He hated silence. It usually meant that something was going wrong. As soon as he started to talk, he wished he would have found something else to talk about, but it was too late, so he said it anyway. "Don't be mad at us. Well, be mad at me, but not her. She never would have betrayed you," he said slowly, honestly. "Don't be mad at her. The Darklighters, they probably just followed you when you left to take her back to the house. She wouldn't have set you up like that, though. They would, but she wouldn't. If you think on it long enough, you and I both know it's not like you haven't given everyone around you at least one excuse to want you dead at one time or another."

"Stop. I don't want to fight anymore," Wyatt said in tired warning. He knew Christopher wasn't trying to pick a fight anymore, but the words stung all the same.

Christopher shrugged. "Who's fighting? I'm not fighting. You're fighting."

"No, I'm just being honest."

"Honest for a normal person or honest for you?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes at his brother, not realizing that it was a perfectly rational question from Christopher's point of view. "Stop it, Chris. Just . . . Okay? I don't want to get into this. I don't want to think about her or anything else. I need . . . She was a part of me, too, you know. You don't get to claim sole grieving rights here. I need to process this as much as you do."

Really not wanting to talk about that anymore, Christopher quickly changed the focus of their discussion. Kicking in the logical, strategist portion of his mind again, he said, "We have a lot to process." He stopped for a second, bracing himself. "Wyatt, I need to know. What can you tell me about what happened? Step by step, I need you to go over every single second of it. I can't help you if I don't know what she did. What do you remember?"

"I already told you, it's all black. I don't really remember much at all."

"C'mon, man, there has to be _something_. It's not like you can just block something like that out."

"I told you, we went to the house to find a spell for her because she was worried about the baby. We both were." Wyatt's words suddenly became more clipped and agitated as he went on trying to focus on any part of this that made sense to him. He tried so hard to remember and only got more angry as the details flew away from him. He talked as fast as he could, thinking out loud. "She was inside. We had a fight and then . . . I don't know. I think that's when the Darklighters showed up. I didn't recognize any of them. I know that at one point she was in the door and chanting. It hurt. I've never felt pain like that before. It . . . But at the same time, I felt so free. It was like there had been something pressing in on my chest so that I couldn't breathe, like I hadn't breathed in years, but I suddenly could again. I don't know what else to tell you. She was convinced that she had saved me, whatever that means. I mean, I don't . . ." There was a cold dread that came over Wyatt as he finally put into words the question that had been haunting him since he'd talked to his mother. Small and afraid of what he was going to get in return, he asked, "Was I really that gone?"

Christopher sat quietly listening until his brother was done. He wasn't sure why it was different to hear it this time than the last, but this time he knew he believed it. Whatever it was that had gone wrong with Wyatt, Lucy had believed that it was over. This time, Christopher was starting to believe it, too. He had watched his brother's eyes the entire time he was talking. This time, there was something there. This time, it really was real.

Softly, he told his brother, "We're going to fix this, Wyatt. Dad's right. We're going to get you back, and when we do, I'm not letting you leave us ever again. You hear me?"

Wyatt doubted that things could be solved between them so easily, but he didn't want to argue the point with Christopher any longer. He knew that for the moment, they were almost okay, but it wasn't going to stay that way. He'd done too much, taken all of the trust out of his brother's eyes. But for now, he would say whatever it took to make his brother happy. Careful to keep the doubt out of his voice, he said, "Yeah, I hear you."

They sat in silence for a moment, letting it all soak in. The further it sunk in, though, the closer Christopher was to laughing. A quick chuckle escaped his throat before he could stop it. He actually smiled at Wyatt as he asked, "Is this real? Are we really sitting here having a civilized conversation?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Huh. I didn't think you remembered how."

Seeing that, at least for the moment, her sons looked like they were going to stop beating each other into a bloody mess, Piper grabbed Leo by the arm and marched over to them. Standing side by side, she crossed her arms over her chest, falling into the Angry Mom mode that she had used not so long ago on their other Chris. These weren't the same kids, but she was still their mother, regardless, and, by god, she was going to remind them of that. "Are you done?"

The two men looked at each other, nodded a silent cease fire, then looked up at their mother. Since Christopher had been the instigator, for the most part, he spoke up for them both. "It's done."

"Good," said Piper. "Then you can start to clean up this mess — without the help of any spells you may have picked up from your aunt."

Leo tried not to smirk as he saw both of his sons cringe. Apparently they knew their mother's moods very well. She was not to be messed with at the moment. Still, Wyatt was going to need a quick reprieve. "Christopher, why don't you get started over by the potions table? Wyatt, I want you on the couch so I can look you over first. I'm still worried about that lung. The two of you got in the ring before I had a chance to heal you from what happened before you got here."

"That's okay," Wyatt said ruefully. "We kind of had a few things that needed discussing first."

"Well, they're done now, so get over there."

Their assignments handed out, the brothers set off to work. A kind of anxious quiet set upon the attic, each person lost in their own thoughts. Phoebe struggled to keep her mind on solving her problem instead of being the problem. Paige flipped through each page of The Book, silently wishing for a reference index to help her along. Piper and Victor doted on the two little Halliwells, passing looks from the smaller versions to the adults, both trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

Almost an hour later, Christopher sluggishly dropped himself into the window seat, avoiding that last real job that could be done in the clean up. He couldn't look at the blood yet. He knew if he asked, Paige could take care of that part for him. He figured his mother would allow that one exception to her rule. His father would make her understand without telling her too much. Granted, if she had been paying enough attention to what Wyatt had said, she had probably figured things out by now. With any luck, though, she had been too distracted to really know what was being said. He really hoped she was. The rest would be a little too much to take.

Christopher pulled his knees up to meet his chin, enclosing himself in his little cocoon, even though it hurt to do so. For a brief moment, he bitterly thought that he wasn't going to give Wyatt the satisfaction of knowing that his brother's muscles and bones were screaming in agony with the slightest twitch of movement. He knew he was going to have to make enough concessions over the next however long the two of them had to be trapped in the house together, but that didn't mean that he was going to give Wyatt any more than was required. No way in hell. Too much had happened, and he wasn't entirely sure he could trust his brother yet anyway. Not yet. And then, realizing what he was thinking, Christopher wanted to kick himself. He had always worked with the theory that Wyatt didn't really know what was happening to him. To be spiteful now when it was seemingly over . . . Well, spite was easy. It was the being responsible and forgiving part that was hard. Sometimes he really hated being a grownup.

He leaned his head against the cool colored glass in the window, letting it suck out the anger clouding his eyes. He had almost completely shut out the world when he felt a slight stir in the cushion on the windowseat. Part of him just knew who it was, but he didn't want to be wrong, so he just let his eyes stay shut. Whoever sat with him gave him the luxury of staying in his safe little corner of the room. There was no contact or words or anything. There was just a warm body there for whenever he was ready to acknowledge it.

Across the room, Leo watched quietly as Wyatt crossed over to sit with his brother. He nudged Piper's side to catch her attention and directed her eyes over to where their two boys were sitting quietly together. Neither parent said anything, but they didn't have to. They smiled uneasily at one another, but their eyes both shone with hope. Maybe _this time_, maybe it will all work out. That somewhat hopeful idea tucked into their hearts, they both turned back to the trunk full of scraps of paper that they had saved over the years, looking for anything that might resemble a spell capable of helping Phoebe.

Realizing that the room was suddenly too quiet, Paige called from where she was hovering near the relatively cleaned up potions tables over to Phoebe, who was near the boys, flipping through The Book. "Anything?"

Phoebe merely shook her head, and even that wasn't very convincing. She hadn't just found nothing. Nothing would be more than she had found, if she could find anything at all. She was starting to think that to even look was a waste of time.

"How can there not be _any_thing," Paige asked, frustrated to no end.

"I don't know, Paige," Phoebe snapped. "But maybe, just like all of the times you've screwed up and done a spell for your own _Personal Gain_ — say, oh, _last night_ — there isn't a spell to fix the backfire, and we have to find some other way of dealing with it."

Paige's head pulled back, feeling the bite in her sister's words. She felt herself wince with the anger and truth of what Phoebe said. After all, she _had_ put herself and her sisters into a few not so pleasant situations from using spells incorrectly or for the wrong reason. But then again, they all had. Taking it out on her wasn't exactly fair. She was only trying to help.

As if she could read her sister's mind, Phoebe closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose to clear her head. Softly, she apologized, "I'm sorry. I know it isn't your fault. I just wish I could find a way to end this . . . these nightmares."

Still hurt but finding it more important to be reassuring at the moment, Paige nodded her acceptance of the apology. "We'll find something. I don't know where, but we'll find it."

The only people in the room who were having an even remotely normal day were the trio now spread out in the middle of the room. Victor sat comfortably in a chair, watching his grandsons sleeping in their playpen. As soon as their grownup counterparts had raised their white flags, he had slyly and conveniently placed the playpen in the middle of the room so that, should the other two start duking it out again, they might have to take into consideration that they most definitely were not the only ones in the room. If that happened, maybe they would keep their pummeling of one another to a minimum. He was just a few feet shy of shoving the tiny versions of the boys into the arms of the adult versions of themselves and telling them to set a proper example for themselves. Granted, he understood why they were fighting. After everything Christopher had told him, both this Chris and the other, Victor knew why it would be so easy for him to fight with his big brother. Still, they were making a big enough mess of things. It was time to just stop and deal with things. It was the only way they were ever going to get back home again.

Still, it was an ugly situation for them all. Forget the Future Boys for the moment; there was enough havoc to go around with all of them. He had heard the whole story about Paige's breakdown and the fun he'd missed there. Things were obviously disintegrating on Phoebe's end. Victor was also worried for Piper and Leo, though, maybe even more than for anyone else. The others, their problems were mystical and ultimately would have a magical solution. But Piper and Leo, their problem was the hardest of them, the problem of marriage. So much had been put upon them, especially now with the death of their son, that if they managed to work this through, he would consider it a miracle. Sometimes love wasn't and couldn't be enough. If anyone would know that, it was Victor.

Under his grandfather's watchful, protective gaze, Little Wyatt stirred in his sleep, pulling his thumb from his mouth and making a pained noise, as if the toddler was having a nightmare. Growing up in that household, Victor wasn't the least bit surprised. He remembered his girls doing much the same thing, even at such a young age. He felt badly when the boy's bright blue eyes opened with a whimper. He quickly scampered up into a standing position, his tiny hands clinging tightly to the padded bar at the top of the mesh cage he shared with his brother. Eyes wide, he looked around, first at his grandfather and then at all of the adults in the room until he found the one he wanted.

"Wyatt," Victor asked softly, reaching to take his grandson into his arms.

The toddler didn't see or hear his grandfather. He had found what he was looking for. Tearfully, he said, "'Ot 'ris!"

In the window seat, sparkling orbs surrounded Christopher and started to float away before he even realized what was going on. Then, just as quickly as he felt himself being pulled away from the attic, he felt a hand reaching out and pulling him back to the ground. When he was solid again, Christopher's anger at the baby version of his brother's repeated antics of orbing him around were quickly put aside when he saw the eyes looking wide back at him. Wyatt still had not let go of his arm after pulling him back down. They both looked down at his arm, neither of them knowing why Wyatt's arm had snatched out to catch him in the first place. Slowly, they both looked over to where the toddler in the playpen was looking back at them with huge eyes.

Everyone quickly turned their attention on the two boys in the playpen. The sisters each looked wildly around for any sign of what it was that triggered Wyatt to attack Christopher this time. They were kind of surprised, though, to hear Phoebe actually go so far as to call out in question, "Hello?" Piper walked over to her smaller sons and made to reach for them, too.

"Oo 'any," the toddler cried and again tried to orb his older younger brother away. As he did, his protective bubble went up around him, shielding him and his brother on either side from even the arms of his suddenly very concerned mother and grandfather.

Victor asked worriedly, "Wyatt?"

The toddler looked strangely at his mother and grandfather and lowered his shield, but quickly turned his eyes back in the direction of the other Chris and Wyatt, who stared back at him just as confused.

Christopher tried not to appear as unnerved as he felt, but this thing of Little Wyatt's was starting to get a little ridiculous. "Mom? Seriously, what's going on with him? Why does he keep trying to get rid of me?" Then, absurdly, he turned to his older brother next to him and asked again, "Why do you keep trying to get rid of me?"

"It was twenty-five years ago and I was two years old, Christopher," Wyatt snapped. "What do you want from me?"

He didn't get what was sure to be a sarcastic answer as the collective attention of everyone in the room was drawn back to Phoebe, who had torn herself from behind the magically repaired podium and was dashing toward the toddler in his playpen. She stopped about half way there and looked around wildly, apparently seeing something that the rest of them couldn't.

"Pheebs," Paige asked, seeing her sister oddly stopped for no reason. "What's wrong?"

Softly the middle sister said to the smaller of the Wyatts, "Okay, it's time to get you out of here."

Confused, Paige and Piper exchanged a look. Piper was the one to put their concerns to words, but Paige was right there with her. "Who are you talking to? Get who out of — WHOA!"

Certainly not of her own volition, Phoebe was suddenly cast across the room, away from Wyatt and into the corner of the room. Oddly, Paige suddenly noticed that a chair was smashed into bits that she hadn't noticed. She wondered how long it had been that way, but realized as quickly as the thought had come that it didn't matter. She knew why it was broken. As Phoebe struggled to stand up from the remains, Paige hollered at them all to make sure they knew what was going on, too.

"She's doing it again," she yelled and raced to meet Phoebe, who was starting to run across the room. She easily caught her sister about the waist and was for a split second relieved that they had caught her in time this time. Phoebe hung limply in her arms, like she was just trying to catch her breath and would be fine any second now. But when her sister didn't give her some indication that she was back amongst them, Paige quietly but urgently asked, "Phoebe?"

"Dad," Phoebe choked.

"Yeah, honey," Victor said reassuringly. "Right here."

"Dad," Phoebe said again, weaker, and slid out of Paige's arms to the floor.

The dead weight of Phoebe falling was too much for Paige to handle. She dropped to her knees with her sister and pulled her hands out from under her. She moved to help Phoebe turn over when she caught sight of the stain on her hand and immediately jumped back. "Oh, god," she whispered.

"Orb her back down to the shower," suggested Christopher, not really ready to see the replay of what should have been his death over again.

Leo, seeing the blood on Paige's hand, sighed, "I don't think that's going to do it this time."

"Wyatt . . . " Phoebe groaned. "Wyatt."

Wyatt hopped off the window seat to go to his aunt, oblivious to what was going on. When Christopher pulled him back by the wrist, he turned quickly on his brother. "What?"

"She doesn't mean you. Just let them work."

Even though he knew it wasn't going to work, Leo fell to his knees at Phoebe's side and let his hands do their magical glowy thing. In the back of his mind, he could hear Gideon's voice, telling him that it was all for the greater good and all of that bullshit that the bastard had spewed at him over and over in those last hours. He was almost sure that if he looked up, he would still see Gideon standing there, holding his son and whisking him away while his other boy lay dying in his arms. The cruelty of déjà vu reached a new low as Phoebe cried under his hands, stuttering the same words Chris had told him. He did his best to ignore her as he called for her father.

"Victor, I'm going to need some help here."

As Leo and Victor carried Phoebe to the sofa, Christopher stepped forward a moment to watch them. Unable to really let his mind process emotionally what was going on — _Phoebe can't die, damn it, not today_ — he wanted to watch her movements. He needed to help them find a game plan because letting Phoebe work through it obviously wasn't working. The Book wasn't helping. Something had to happen, and it needed to happen soon. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if he could hold everything in with his arms. Just in case, one of his hands came up to his mouth so that he could chew on his thumb nail to keep him from saying anything he shouldn't say quite yet. There was no way that _that_ was going to work, but he had to do something. He'd had one meltdown today. That was one enough.

Recognizing Christopher's battle planning stance, even if he had usually been on the defensive end of it, Wyatt looked at his brother. He knew that something big was going on; that much was obvious. But what Christopher was thinking about was a little beyond him. Confused, he asked, "What's — "

Christopher immediately cut him off, brushing his hand down through the air before bringing it back up to his jaw in worry. There really was no way out of this. Phoebe was slipping further and further away from them, lost in what had happened to this other version of himself, and if anything, he was probably only making it worse for her like he had with Paige. He bowed his head, the palm of hand covering his mouth to hold in the frustrated sigh that was threatening to come out. How many more deaths was he supposed to be able to take today, anyway? How much more damage was he going to do?

"Christopher?"

"Just . . . Just be quiet."

"What do we do now," Victor asked at the same time as Christopher pulled Wyatt back to the window to explain without really explaining what was going on. He held Phoebe's hand to his cheek, needing to feel that his baby was still warm. His girls were having too many close calls lately. He'd be damned if this was going to be another one, not after they had just lost Chris the way they had. "We _can_ do something, right? Tell me we don't just sit here and wait for her to die."

"We don't," said Piper, sounding a little less than confident in her answer. Leo gave her a nod of encouragement, handing over the control reigns to her. He had done his part with sorting their sons out, now it was her turn to sort her sister out. He would be there in a guiding capacity now, as he should be, but she needed to take back her control. She didn't know how he did it. She couldn't remember how he had always done it, but there it was, that look that told her how he saw her. Married or not, he still knew how to get the best work out of her. Her confidence at least sort of regained, she boldly repeated, "We don't. We get through this like we get through everything else."

"Yeah . . . " Paige said sinkingly. "And how are we going to do that exactly? It's not like The Book is doing much talking here."

"Maybe it doesn't have to," said Leo thoughtfully.

Happy to hear her husband kick into Whitelighter mode, however annoying it could be sometimes, Piper smiled hopefully up at him. "Explain."

"The spell that Phoebe cast on herself didn't come from The Book. When she wrote it, she wanted to hear from Chris. She wanted to keep his memory alive for us. So what if the only way for the spell to end is for her to hear whatever it is that his memory is trying to tell her? It wouldn't be the first time that a spell one of you girls has cast has required a little creative solution."

Her hopes slightly dashed, Piper shook her head and grimaced. "Yeah, see, that sounds a little iffy to me. I think it's too late for that. Look what his memory is doing to her right now. How is that supposed to help her?"

Before the angel could answer his wife, the entire room was bathed in a gorgeous white light. The remaining sisters joined each other side by side, ready to take on whatever was going to happen to them next. Neither of them noticed that they had carefully placed themselves in front of their downed sister, guarding her carefully in her inability to help them. Christopher and Wyatt both leapt from their positions at the window, forgetting that neither of them had the power to do anything. Victor shielded his daughter's body, carefully covering her head with both hands. The toddler in his playpen was the only one who didn't seem to be frightened. Little Wyatt simply stepped closer to his baby brother and raised his shield, then stared into the light with wonderment.

As the light died down, in the center of it stood a terrified looking Wyatt, although he didn't look much like himself. His hair was cut almost military short. He was much skinnier and smaller than his counterpart. He hadn't developed any real physical stature at all. He couldn't have been more than, by Christopher and Wyatt's estimation, fifteen years old. But most importantly, he looked terrified.

"What the hell," asked Wyatt, looking at himself standing in the middle of the room.

They all stared, uncomprehending, while at the same time, the Wyatt in the middle of the room let his arms fall to his sides then raised his hands up to his face, staring at them in horror. He turned all around the room, looking for something. He seemed to find it, somewhere in the corner. Wyatt dashed to the corner, falling to his knees.

"Look at me. Are you okay?" His hands were running all up and down, as if checking for something that the rest of them couldn't see.. "Are you sure? If you're hurt, you've got to tell me." After a moment, he seemed to relax. He fell back off his knees and sat down, looking exhausted. "I'm fine . . . I just . . . God, Chris, what's happening to me?"

A little bewildered at having yet another Wyatt pop up in front of them, Piper looked at her two grown sons. "What is this?"

"Don't look at us," Christopher said, just as confused. "I have no idea what he's talking about." He looked at his brother, who shook his head at him, also not having a clue. "I think that's something we need to ask _him_."

Not quite getting what Christopher was trying to tell them, Leo started to move forward to ask this younger Wyatt what he was doing there when the teenager disappeared from their sight as quickly as he had appeared. His hand clutching onto thin air, Leo gaped, "How — ?"

"Not him," Christopher corrected himself. He directed everyone's attention back to the fallen Halliwell, gesturing emphatically at her. "_Him_."

Getting what it was that her nephew meant, Paige looked to Christopher to try to keep his thoughts running before they found a dead end. "Okay, but how? We can't even talk to Phoebe right now, let alone him."

"Maybe . . ." Christopher started but stuttered out again.

"Maybe . . . " Paige pushed, urging his thought process along.

Still feeling like he was intruding and that his help wasn't wanted, Wyatt took a step away from Christopher as he looked down at his feet. He knew what his brother was probably thinking, but he didn't know if Christopher would want his help. That didn't mean that it wasn't needed, though. So quietly, he said, "I'm not exactly sure what's going on here since _no one will tell me_ . . ." He added emphatically toward Christopher before actually offering up his suggestion. "But maybe you aren't supposed to actually ask. Maybe you're just supposed to listen."

As if to tell Wyatt that he was right, a swirl of golden orbs spiraled into the center of the attic without warning. No one missed what should have been a barely audible gasp from Piper as a sadly smiling Prue stepped out from the glow to sit cross-legged in the middle of the circular carpet.

Victor moved to leave Phoebe's side for a moment, stepping closer to his missing daughter. "Prue? Honey, is that really . . .?"

"Hi, Sweetie," the ghostly woman said.

Sadly, Piper shook her head. "I don't think so, Dad. I think that's — "

"I know, Chris, I know. I would let you see him if I could. I would let you see all of them if I could. But you know the rules. At least you still get to see me, right? And Grams is listening in if you need her. Okay?" Prue sat quietly listening, oblivious, as Piper walked around in a slow circle, watching this ghost of the ghost of her sister listening for something that the rest of them couldn't hear. When she had heard whatever it was, Prue spoke again, soft and understanding. "Don't be too mad at him. He was only doing what he thought was best for you. He had no idea that things were the way they are. He wanted so badly to protect you, to keep you safe. I've known your father for a long, long time, Honey. Whatever else you may think about him, he loved you with all his heart. I know you don't want anyone to defend him right now. He abandoned you in the worst way when you need him most, but one day you'll understand that he would give anything to change that. Just don't stay too mad at him for too long, okay?"

Again she appeared to wait anxiously for a response as her sister waited just as nervously, trying to suss out what was actually going on. Piper was left without much of a clue when Prue smiled and said, "I will, but I don't have to. Your mom, she knows how much you miss her. She knows you love her. She doesn't blame you, if that's what you're thinking. She knows what you have to do. You didn't make this situation, Chris. We all know that. One day, when this is all over and you are all safe again . . . Because I know . . . I may be dead, but I am still your aunt, young man. If I say I know that something is going to turn out all right then I know it's going to turn out all right. I don't have to tell you how I know. I just do." She waited for a moment, getting some kind of response, then smiled. "That's better. So . . . Your mom wanted you to know that you have our blessing with this. It's risky, but we're behind you. There is a spell in The Book that we think can help. Grams marked it for you as soon as we realized what was happening."

Growing impatient, Victor asked, "What is she talking about?"

"Be quiet and maybe we'll find out," snapped Paige, struggling to fit the missing half of the conversation into place. She realized that she was probably snapping at the wrong person, so she quickly apologized over her shoulder. She shrugged and whispered, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he whispered back. "I . . . " Before he could finish his thought, Prue stood up. He didn't know why, but he could feel somehow that however she was in front of them, his daughter was going to be disappearing from them very soon. He wanted so badly to talk to her, but he knew that this was different. She wasn't really there like Penny and Patty had been there in front of him before. This wasn't real. It was . . .something else. Still, he couldn't let the opportunity pass. He looked at this image of his daughter and whispered to her, "I love you, baby."

Piper had to hold back an errant tear as her sister's ghost smiled out into the attic. The tear fell when Prue said softly, "Now go save your brother. We love you, and we'll see you when you get back."

With that, the vision or whatever it was of Prue disintegrated into a swirl of golden orbs and floated away into oblivion. She was almost immediately replaced with a very angry looking Wyatt. As an energy ball formed in his hand, everyone in the family backed away from him without even thinking about it. Only the real Wyatt stood his ground, but only because he was standing in front of Christopher to shield him from the energy ball. It didn't quite register with him that he was seeing himself holding the weapon until he heard his own voice echoing off the attic walls.

"Have you lost your mind," the new Wyatt growled furiously. They all followed his eyes up to something up at the ceiling but didn't see anything. He continued to spit venomously, "I — don't — need — you."

Wyatt again stared at this other version of himself, terrified at what he was seeing. He spared a glance at Christopher, who was looking curiously at this dark version of his brother. Christopher visibly flinched at the words, as if he was hearing them from his real brother. Seeing Christopher pale, Wyatt looked back at himself, angry at this guy for making his brother upset. "What is this?"

"You," Christopher said simply. What they were seeing may not be something from his life, but he had been through so many similar situations with his brother, heard that voice so many times that he didn't see any way to lie around it. That voice was all there was.

As Wyatt's heart sank into his stomach at his brother's brutal honesty, the other Wyatt arched his back and screamed in some sort of pain. Another figure appeared behind him, her arm sticking out of his back. Immediately everyone but Victor recognized her. Only Christopher said anything, though, now definitely confused himself. "Bianca?"

"Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. I can't hold him for long," she was saying to someone in the corner, below where Wyatt had been looking. She stood there for a moment, visibly struggling to keep hold of this other Wyatt, until she viciously lost the battle. They saw her fly across the room. It took a moment for any of their eyes to catch up to where she had landed, but when they found her, a jagged fragment of a bookcase protruded grotesquely from her middle. At the same time, they saw Wyatt fly up toward the ceiling himself, the chandelier sending sparks out from beneath his back.

His resolve broken, Christopher started to head toward his fallen brother without thinking about it. It was only when he tried to push past his real brother that he realized that he was chasing a ghost. Their eyes met, both of them seeing a new terror in reflected in the other's eyes.

Truly horrified, Wyatt whispered to his brother, "Is that what we're heading to?"

"Haven't we been here before," the Bianca ghost asked. She half smiled after a moment and whimpered, "Maybe. You can finish what we started. Hurry. Take the spell so he can't send anyone else. Go."

Both brothers watched in horror as the other Wyatt shakily rose to his feet and started flinging energy balls left and right, howling in fury. Thinking back to the last time he'd seen Wyatt in the attic and seeing Charlie dead and Lucy bolted into the wall, Christopher bleakly sighed and answered his brother's question. "We're already there."

A moment later, the entire family was stunned as clones of Piper, Paige, Phoebe, and Leo popped up in the middle of the attic. The surprised looks on the real family's faces mirrored the expressions on the faces of the second family.

The pop-up Paige was the first to ask, "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Nice spell," the real Paige mumbled, realizing what the exact moment they were seeing was and echoing the answer she had received to her question a year ago. "Oh, my god. When he said she wasn't going to cause trouble, I . . . I called him '_Mopey_' for weeks after that." Absurdly, she asked her sisters, "Why didn't any of you stop me?"

As the clones of the family disappeared from the attic, it was Piper who shook herself out of the spell that Chris's memory seemed to be casting now on all of them. To herself and to her missing son, she asked, "I don't understand. What is he doing? Chris, what are you doing? What are you trying to tell us?"

Thoughtfully, Leo suggested, "If these are the memories that Phoebe has been seeing all along, maybe this is his way of letting us see them now, too."

"I don't think so," Paige said, thinking out loud. "If I may, I don't think he, in particular, is trying to tell _us_ anything. I think what we're seeing is his life flashing before his eyes after he . . . after you got him downstairs, Leo, before I got there and when Sheridan was . . . " Unable to finish the sentence, Paige just stopped and tried to collect herself before going on. "I think it's Phoebe who is making us see what he was seeing. I think . . . I think she's still avoiding him, trying to make us do the work instead of her. She isn't letting the spell work. I think she needs to be the one listening to him, not us. When she does, we'll stop seeing all of this."

As another vision, so to speak, of Chris's memories manifested in the middle of the attic, the family did their best to tune it out and get back to business. Paige orbed The Book over to herself and sat at the table. Hopefully, she suggested, "There's a spell somewhere in here that we used that time to help us hear our inner moppets. Maybe I can modify it so that Phoebe can hear her inner Chris?"

Hearing that and finally fed up with the lack of explanations he was getting, Wyatt pulled his brother into the corner. "What in the hell is going on here? Why do they keep saying they need to talk to you but look at Phoebe?"

Christopher studied his older brother for a moment, still not entirely ready to trust the honest look in the man's eyes. Wyatt had been able to fake it before, to make them believe that he was still one of them. If they made the wrong move right now and trusted him, it could be _Game Over_ long before they were able to help Phoebe out of this mess and to really save Wyatt from ever becoming what he had become. Of course, he'd also been able to put on that mask in the other direction, the one he reserved for demons that made him seem evil beyond belief even when he wasn't. But this time, he didn't know and had no way to be absolutely sure. Still, there just seemed to be something different in the look. It was almost as if Wyatt was scared of something. That was a look that Christopher didn't ever want to see on his brother's face. It just wasn't supposed to be there at all.

Sensing what his brother was thinking, Wyatt tried to look like he understood as he said, "Seriously, Christopher, I . . . I . . . What's going on? Why don't I know about any of this?"

"We're changing the timeline just by being here," Christopher suggested softly. "I don't think this happened to them the last time. I never heard about any of this either. Like I told them, I thought Phoebe was acting weird because I was here."

"Why would she act weird?"

"You know about this," said Christopher suspiciously. "When I left with Dad, you told us that you knew."

"About what? I don't — " Wyatt looked over at his ailing aunt and shook his head violently. "I _definitely_ don't know anything about that."

"You said that you got some information from Phoebe about this time, about an Elder, Gideon."

Wyatt shrugged. "That? Yeah, he kidnapped me the day you were born. I know that Dad killed him. Beyond that, I don't know much of anything. Everything I got from her was about how their Whitelighter had warned them about this threat that they thought was against me and how they thought they'd had the right guy, but it turned out to be this Gideon guy all along. He'd been helping them. Dad took the betrayal pretty hard, and that was why we never had any contact with the Elders or Whitelighters or anything until Charlie came along. That was all. There really wasn't anything significant in that. Did I tell you I remembered that?"

Sadly, Christopher stared off into the space just above Phoebe's shoulder, unable to really look at her or anyone else in the family at the moment. He could see the weight of the last three weeks written on all of their faces, in their own individual ways. His voice barely a whisper, he said, "That's not all."

"What are you talking about?"

Before Christopher could explain anything further, Leo turned away from Phoebe toward him. Phoebe's screaming was obviously getting to him. He blinked away a few tears before his eyes caught sight of a green-looking Christopher. His fatherly instincts took over, crossing the distance between them as quickly as if he had orbed. The angel's breath was short, almost quivering, when he faked a smile at the younger of his grown sons. "You two should get out of here for this," he offered.

"Dad, I can handle it this time," Christopher said bravely.

"I know you can, but I don't want you to see it anyway." With a nod toward Wyatt, he said, "And I don't want him seeing it either."

"Leo . . . " Wyatt started to interrupt, but was quickly cut off again.

"He doesn't know what happened, right," asked Leo of Christopher.

"Apparently I wasn't the only one who you kept out of the loop," Christopher said with half a smile. "He doesn't know anything."

"If he's forgotten it all, then I want to keep it that way," Leo said, looking back at the toddler version of his son for a second. "One of them knowing is bad enough."

For his brother's own good, Christopher agreed. "Works for me."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here. What are you two talking about?"

"If I wanted you to know, Wyatt, I would have told you. Now please, both of you, get out of here. Get some air, anything. Take the boys with you. I don't want any of you from any timeline seeing this." Leo clapped his hand on Christopher's shoulder, man to man. "I need you to do this for me."

Christopher nodded, understanding. He knew it wasn't about him at all. It was about his dad. Watching this other version of him die over and over had to be killing him. It was only making it worse having Christopher there to see it, the fresh horror of it there, like the pain of pulling a Band-Aid off, only to replace it with a new one until that one needs to come off too. Without another word, he directed his older brother to the smaller version of his older brother. "You won't let me pick you up, for whatever reason. So you grab your- . . . Little You and I'll get Little Me over there. It's been almost four hours. They could both probably stand something to eat."

"Since when do you know anything about babies," Wyatt said, trying to lighten the mood that he didn't understand. As soon as he said it, though, his face paled again. He looked at Christopher, who was looking sick again.

Still, the younger brother kept his voice calm, even if a little sad, when he said, "The Elders weren't going to let Charlie stay with us permanently, like They did to Mom and Dad, so I was going to have a big job ahead. We'd been reading a lot of books. She was practically trying to memorize the damned things. She was really excited." Christopher shook his head, as if shaking her out of his memory would make it all go away. It definitely served to end the conversation. With a determined step, he marched over to where he and his brother were starting to get a little antsy in the playpen. He gave Little Wyatt a wary eye before reaching down to pick up his younger self. "It's okay, Wyatt. I'm not going to hurt him. We're all going to go downstairs and get something to eat. How about some macaroni and cheese? I can make you some macaroni and cheese if you want."

The four boys quietly made their exit, being careful to leave the attic door open so that they could get back up there if they were needed. The others had to fight to ignore Phoebe's cries as the boys disappeared while they drew closer to the moment when Paige and Leo knew Chris was going to be lost to them again. She could tell that, for Phoebe and Chris, Sheridan had arrived in the room with them and she was about to be forced away from him once again. It was all she could do to keep from screaming herself.

Leo caught sight of her paling face and quickly pulled her to the side. "Do you need to get out of here?"

Adamantly, she shook her head. "No. No way. This needs to end. I'm not leaving him again."

"You didn't leave him before and you wouldn't be now."

Paige shrugged. "Hey, you guys are the ones who wanted me to have to deal with this. I put it off long enough. It's time to deal." As a second thought, she added, "But stay close, okay?"

"You and me, we're in this together," Leo said reassuringly.

"I knew we liked keeping you around for a reason."

Leo had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, _Remind my wife of that, would you?_ Instead, he draped a protective arm around Paige's shoulders and watched his wife as she started to pace back and forth at their sister's side. It wasn't long before the angel knew his services were about to be spread out again.

As Phoebe screamed in Chris's pain, Piper wrapped her arms around herself to keep from screaming in frustration. She knew what she was seeing, knew that while she had been in labor, her baby boy had been alone on her bed, waiting for her sister to show up so that he wouldn't have to die alone. Judging from Phoebe's voice, he had been so scared and _she hadn't been there_. Finally she turned away, unable to look any longer.

"How much longer is this going to go on?"

Paige took Leo's arm away from her shoulders and gently shoved him in her sister's direction. "Go see what you can do. I'll keep looking. Sheridan is with them now. We don't have much time before you get back to us."

"Good luck," Leo said gratefully and went to his wife's side, pulling her as far away from her sister as possible for a few minutes.

The distance couldn't erase the screams, but it would at least keep things in perspective. Chris wasn't in there. He couldn't be. It was only Phoebe. By standing a little further back, it was a lot easier to see that they weren't in the bedroom, that they were in the attic, and that it wasn't Chris they were watching over. They weren't watching a boy die on his twenty-third birthday; they were watching a beloved witch and sister die on a random day like any other. They couldn't save Chris. They needed to stop trying to do so.

For the next twenty minutes, Leo sat with his wife, holding her as she flipped angrily through the pages and pages of paper in the trunk. Neither of them said much of anything, avoiding anything that could resemble conversation. They needed to say so much, but this really wasn't the time. They needed to save everyone else before they could even think about saving themselves. Piper suddenly really hated Prue for leaving the Big Sister job up to her. Being the big sister, the responsible one who took care of everyone else first, really, really sucked.

It was just as Piper was about ready to slam the lid of the trunk shut in frustration that Paige called for Leo, sounding upset. "Leo, it's time. You're here."

Leo nodded and got up to go be with Phoebe in a last ditch effort to try to heal her one more time. Piper followed, even though Leo gestured to her to stay behind. "You don't want to see this," he told her.

"No, I don't, but I need to."

As they reached Phoebe's side, she mumbled softly, "Hey," as if she were actually talking to the people around her.

Victor, hoping beyond hope that his little girl was finally coming out of her spell, greeted her back. "Hey, baby."

Leo dropped down by Phoebe's side, his hands glowing. He did his best to avoid looking at her or at the blood on her shirt as his hands passed over her, defeated in his efforts as he had been that day and in every dream he'd had since.

"You either," Phoebe breathed, obviously more afraid than the words Chris had intended them to be only a few weeks ago. With that, she stopped, just as Chris had done. It was all that any of them could do to hope that she wouldn't disappear from their very eyesight the way he had as well.

"No . . . " Piper choked, unable to find any other word to say. She wanted to scream, but her voice wasn't there. Not again. She couldn't do this again, not for many, many years to come. She'd be damned if she was going to go through this again three years after Prue left them. It was too soon. It was too much. She just . . . No. Absolutely not. No.

"No . . . " Paige also said, a beat later. Her voice wasn't nearly as upset as her eldest sister's though. It was thoughtful, cautious. She knew, somehow, that this was different. It was like how she could tell when the electricity was out. She never noticed the sounds it makes throughout the house, even when nothing is _on_, until it was gone. She watched Phoebe, unable to let her mind click with the idea that she was seeing her nephew die, _again_, in her sister's body. She knew when she heard the words that it was over, that he was supposed to be disappearing into the nothingness of wherever it was that he now was. But somehow, it wasn't over. It didn't stop like it was supposed to. Without realizing that she was talking out loud, she said thoughtfully, "She didn't stop."

Sniffling, Victor was the first to come back enough to ask, "What do you mean?"

"Look at her. She didn't stop breathing because she didn't die," Paige said. "Her chest didn't fall. The air is still in there."

"I don't understand," Piper said.

"She's somehow . . . I don't know — _frozen_. She isn't dead. She stopped before Chris let out his last breath. They aren't gone yet."

Still confused, Victor asked, "How do you know?"

Paige looked over at Leo, who was still trying his best to contain whatever it was that he was feeling. They shared a brief look that said pretty much the same thing. They were getting tired of reliving this day after day. "I . . . We were there."

"That still doesn't explain — "

"Well, I don't know, all right? I don't know! So maybe someone else can figure it out because we're running out of answers."

"Maybe not," said Christopher, suddenly appearing in the doorway, his younger self cradled gently in his arms. He swept quickly through the room, beaming excitedly. When he was about half of the way through, he hollered over his shoulder, "Wyatt, hurry up!"

A swarm of orbs appeared at the younger man's side, looking frazzled even as the hurried man stepped out of them. "A little warning would be nice, Sibyl," he grumbled at his brother.

"Whatever," Christopher groaned before returning his attention to the adults. "We were talking and — I'm not sure, but I think —- yeah, it might work. If we — "

"Full sentences, Christopher," Piper urged.

Christopher sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a huff, trying to settle himself down. He couldn't help it. He was so close now, he could almost taste it. If he was right, they were going to save Wyatt and quite possibly Phoebe, too. If he was right, this could all almost be over. Barely able to contain himself, Christopher turned to his father and brother, both of whom he was pretty sure would have the answer.

With a mischievous glint to his eye, Christopher asked them, "Okay, how do I find Clyde?"

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	8. On a Bad Day

**Chapter Eight  
On a Bad Day**

**I.**

Both Wyatt and Leo gaped wide-eyed at Christopher, caught off guard by his question. It had been obvious that he'd intended the question for them, but it was Piper instead who addressed the younger son first.

"Clyde? You mean the guy with the door?"

Excitedly, Christopher chirped, "If that's how he does it, then, yeah, that guy."

"Oh, no," warned Piper almost immediately. "No, no, no. No way. The last time we let him loose on this family, he almost got Phoebe and Cole both married and killed. I will not have that lunatic in my house again."

"How do you even know about him," asked Leo, skipping over Piper's objection for the moment until Christopher had had time to work his idea out with them. At least, he couldn't entirely discount the idea yet; he just didn't have to like it. "Clyde isn't exactly someone you look up in the magical yellow pages."

Christopher focused on his father, hoping that he could keep his idea as vague as possible to everyone else but Leo and Victor. He didn't want any more questions than necessary as he began to explain, "When she had the vision that I told you about, the one she got from the baby that started this whole thing, we did some asking around. We even went to the Underworld to find a Seer to find out if there was any way of knowing what it was. No one would help us since they were all . . ." Christopher sheepishly looked at his brother, avoiding his eyes but seeing his general direction. "Well, they all had contracts with another employer, shall we say. But there was one who suggested that we get in touch with Clyde, that he was the only one with power enough to move through time the way we needed him to besides Tempus. We never were able to find him, though." Stealing a glance this time at his grandfather, he said sadly, "Something else came up."

Paige, too, remembered the hulking guardian of the past, not exactly fondly. If she thought about it, the smell of him never really left her memory. Still, if it could help them out . . . "That doesn't explain what he could do for us now, though. He can only show us the past, anyway. What made you think of him?"

Christopher gulped, trying to settle himself long enough to get his thoughts out. Thinking out loud, he told them, "Like I said, we were talking downstairs and trying to fill in some of the gaps of the last year and all that. I thought we'd have more luck figuring today out if we started back a little further. When Wyatt asked how we got the idea to come back here, I told him about the vision." He turned to his older brother and said, "You said, '_If that ever happened, that would be the worst day of my life_'. You see now?"

Wyatt looked confused for a moment, but the lights went on for him at the same time as they did for Leo. "That's what she said! Lucy said that '_it was the worst day of his life_'!"

"Exactly," Christopher said excitedly. "I know she didn't mean me, or she would have said '_your life_'. She had to mean you. But that day hasn't happened yet, not from here. So we need to get to that day, to find that thing she said we missed that day. I don't trust the Elders to get us there, and we definitely can't trust Tempus. That leaves Clyde. He's the only one with that kind of power. Even though we're here, our past has still happened for us. If he can only show his clients their pasts, well — I mean, if I got the story right, he truly was the ghost of Christmas past, so to speak, which means that if he is real, then so are the ghosts of Christmas present and future, right? So if Clyde himself can't do it for us, he has to know the ghost who can. It's worth a shot, isn't it? It's the only one I think we have right now." Again he faced his father and brother, this time much more sure of himself as he asked, "So how do I find him?"

"You mean '_we_'," Wyatt corrected his brother.

"No, I don't," argued Christopher. "I need you to stay here. I don't know what I'm going to end up seeing if this works, and I'm not going to risk you losing it on me." The man's voice was barely audible, but definitely unsure of whether or not he even believed what he was about to say, but he was saying it anyway. "I just got you back, at least, I think I did. I'm not risking you, not after everything we went through to get you back. I can't take that chance. We don't know what made you go away. All we know, if she was right, is the day."

Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest automatically, the stance he usually found himself in whenever someone had the gall to argue with him. He saw Christopher's face flicker for a moment, as if his kid brother had been afraid but reminded himself that he didn't have to be. Wyatt knew that that look was going to be in Christopher's eyes for a long, long time to come, but that didn't mean that it hurt any less to see it there. He dropped his hands back down and jammed them so deep into his pockets that he was slouching. He looked hard at his brother and said, "I need to do this with you. I know you don't need me there because you '_need_' me. You've more than proven that you don't need me. But I need this, Chris, _me_. So much is a big black hole right now. I need to know."

"Seriously, I don't think that's a very good idea." Christopher thought on the stricken look on his brother's face when the strange pop-up-clones of Wyatt had appeared in front of them, the things that they had heard him saying. Wyatt had been so sick with what they'd seen, even when none of that had really happened between the two of them. To watch what was probably going to be a replay of similar moments and still focus enough to figure out what they could do next was not going to be easy in the least. He couldn't ask Wyatt to do that. His mind quickly made up, Christopher adamantly said, "I'm doing this alone."

"No, you aren't," said Leo. "I'm going with you."

Christopher immediately shook his head. "Dad, I hate to say it, but — "

"_Future consequences_, I know," Leo rolled his eyes. "But think about it: if this works, whatever we see won't happen. We may be able to strike that day from your lives forever. Clyde is, among other things, a really antsy guy. He isn't going to have the patience to deal with you. He isn't going to jump back and forth as many times as you need so that you can be sure of what you're seeing. At the very least, you're going to need another set of eyes."

"Whoa," Piper interrupted. "Before any of you decide to go traipsing off to the past or the future or whatever it is to you, we have other problems to deal with here." She directed their attention to the still form of her sister. "None of you are going anywhere until we fix this." To Leo and Christopher, she said, "Wyatt is safe for now, as long as he's here with us, right? Whatever happened to him, it seems to be fixed. I realize that it isn't a total fix. It still happened, and we need to find a way to stop it for good, but it isn't Life or Death anymore. Phoebe's situation is."

Christopher glanced over at Phoebe, understanding his mother's predicament. He tried to be as diplomatic as possible and said gently to her, "Look, Mom, I know you're scared. I am, too. We have too many people to save at once and not a clue how to do it. But I still think what I've been thinking all week. I am part of the problem."

"Christopher, no," Piper argued.

"Yes, I am. My being here is making it harder for all of you. If you're honest about it, you know I'm right. Dad's right; I should probably have another set of eyes to help me, but if I'm taking anyone, it's going to be Wyatt. I don't think it's a good idea for Dad to be in the future. He's seen too much as it is. So I think we need to split up. If you and Dad and Paige take care of Phoebe, Wyatt and I can work on Little Wyatt and try to sort the future out for all of us. The more Wyatt and I can do on our own, the easier it will be for all of you." With a pointed look at his parents, Christopher added, "And I think it would be better for Wyatt if he was as little a part of Phoebe's problem as possible, too."

Wyatt had been listening quietly to his brother talk fairly confidently to his parents, but he quickly joined in when it was suggested that he was one of the parties that needed some sort of protection from his own past. It was his past, after all. Before he even realized he was doing it, he invoked a voice that he didn't know he really even had. "And do I get a say in what I'm supposed to be doing here, Christopher?"

"NO," Leo, Piper, and Christopher all answered at once, shouting down the eldest son's potential argument. Piper didn't like what Christopher had been saying, but she had to admit that, in this circumstance, he was probably right. The last thing that Phoebe needed at the moment, if she chose to wake up, was to see him or Wyatt standing there in some position that reminded Chris's memory of some random event and sent her off on another mnemonic tantrum. She sighed heavily and finished to Wyatt for all of them. "Your brother is right. It isn't really safe for either of you to be around Phoebe right now. But you aren't going without your father. No arguments on that one."

Victor, too, had been quietly dividing his attention between his baby girl and the rest of his family. He had learned long ago not to bother trying to interject ideas unless he was sure that he could help out in some way. The mortals belonged at the Kids' Table, after all. This time, he was pretty sure he was going to be right when he piped up, "Um, excuse me, but maybe it would be a good idea to see if your ghost or whatever can actually help you before you fight over who is doing what when and how? Phoebe seems caught in time for the moment, but I'm guessing that once time starts moving for her again, she doesn't have much time left. Considering that we don't know when that's going to happen, perhaps you should find out if this is an option before you bother trying to figure out what to do next."

Properly admonished, Christopher backed off for the moment, as did Wyatt. Piper obviously had no intention of backing off, but Victor silenced her with a look. Leo gave his wife and sons a quick look-over then made up his mind. Without any further fuss, he backed up from the group, leaving a nice wide space in the middle of the room for their guest. He stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers laced and cracked. A quick smile flashed over his tired features as he poured all of his frustration into the call for the temperamental (at best) spirit guide.

Even Wyatt flushed with embarrassment at the foul words that came from his father's mouth. He whistled a low, "Wow."

"The only way to get him to appear is to make him mad," Leo shrugged.

"I didn't know you knew words like that," Wyatt continued to marvel.

The two small children in the makeshift playpen didn't seem to know that their father knew those kinds of words either, because as soon as the yelling started, both of the children started to cry. Little Wyatt immediately stepped closer to his little brother and threw up his protective bubble, even as the tears started to come. The screaming only grew as Leo cursed louder from the lack of response.

Then, out of the sky, a whirlwind tore into the attic, sending the two little boys into a complete panic. As the twister drew closer to them, Little Wyatt blinked hard. Vials of potions exploded on the potions table. The door to the attic slammed shut. Just as he had been all week, Christopher was suddenly swept off his feet into a cloud of orbs that threatened to take him away until he felt his mother reach up and grab him before he could get away.

As the twister settled, Piper turned on her toddler with a stern look. "Wyatt, stop that. Not nice. Not. Nice."

Little Wyatt's only reply was a pouty, "No 'ad. 'Ad 'ad 'ad 'ad. . ."

Piper sighed, finally at a loss as to why little Wyatt was trying so hard to get rid of Christopher. Even when Wyatt hadn't trusted Chris, he still hadn't tried to orb him away. He'd put up his shield, sure, but he'd never tried to hurt his little brother. She ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath to blow out the frustration before she got a tone that she didn't want with any of her kids. "Look, Christopher, maybe it would be a good idea if we just kept you away from him for a while this afternoon. He actually seems more agitated with you today than he has all week, if that's possible. There aren't any knives for him to try to skewer you with, but E-X-C-A-L-I-B-U-Ris, and I don't want to take any chances."

Almost comically, Leo said from the middle of the room where he was talking with a typically angry-looking Clyde, "Christopher, come over here. Wyatt, stop trying to kill your brother."

Christopher shrugged but obeyed, stopping along the way only long enough to tap his big brother on the shoulder. He hooked a thumb at the playpen and told Wyatt, "Have a little talk with yourself, will you, and get him to stop trying to kill me? I can only handle one of you doing that at a time."

"Right," Wyatt scoffed. "And what exactly am I supposed to tell myself?"

A mischievous smile graced Christopher's features, but their mother had been paying too much attention to their conversation to let it get any further than that. "You better watch that mouth, Mister," she warned.

After another smart-alecky grin in his adult brother's direction and a wary look at his toddler brother's direction, Christopher left the group to join his father and Clyde. Ten minutes of begging and negotiating later, Christopher sidled quietly up to his brother, tugging on his shirt sleeve.

"It's a go," he told Wyatt. "Dad's talking to him downstairs alone for a few minutes, but we have a deal."

"How many first-born children did you have to promise him?"

"There's 'highway robbery' and then there's Clyde," said Christopher ruefully. "But at least it's a start. I've got to do _something_ he hadn't tried yet."

Wyatt looked quizzically at his brother. "Who 'he' hadn't tried what?"

"Nevermind. It isn't important, not to us. Until this is all done, I'd rather you didn't know." In dire need of distraction, Christopher walked away from his brother, fast. He joined his mother and Paige, who were both standing over Phoebe while Victor took a much needed break. "How is she?"

"No change," said Piper. "The only good news here is that the bleeding seems to have stopped when she stopped breathing. We can't heal her, but at least she isn't getting any worse."

Wyatt came up behind them, his conversation with his brother not as finished as Christopher would have liked. Things had been progressively clearer to him over the last few hours since their fight, but he was still struggling to place everything that was going on around them. To his brother, he said jokingly (although Christopher's reaction didn't seem to take it as a joke), "Yeah, we weren't done. But . . . " A little more gently, he asked, "So Phoebe's still out of commission?"

Piper didn't even look up at her son as she sighed, "Yeah, and unless we find a spell to help us come up with a plan to help her, she's going to stay that way for a while. Christopher is right. We need to split up. So, as much as I hate to say it, why don't we get you three on the road? Don't worry about Phoebe. Paige and I will take care of it. You guys need to take care of you."

From the chair near Phoebe's head, Paige squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't mean to be the bad aunt or anything — and no offense, Kiddo — but are we sure we can trust Wyatt to go along? I mean, I know we can't trust him to stay here either, but . . . "

"You're worried about trusting _me_," Wyatt tried to joke to cover up his admittedly hurt (but understanding) feelings. "From the looks of it, it's Little Me over there that needs to be sent to his room before he tries to kill Chris one more time, not me."

Piper and Paige both made small whimpering noises in the backs of their throats that made Christopher cringe. He gave his brother a strong punch on the arm and a warning without explanation. "Shut up. Open mouth. Insert foot."

Their mother quickly recovered and growled first at Christopher, then at Wyatt. "You, play nice with your brother. I don't have any more ice left as it is. And you, stop being such a jackass. This family has enough issues to deal with today."

Christopher smirked and had to look down at his toes to hide it. In his head, he could hear Lucy's voice, getting mad at the guy she'd been dating before Charlie because he'd done the same and called Wyatt a 'colossal jackass'. Christopher had had to hold Wyatt back until Lucy had stepped away from her boyfriend, joining her brothers opposite him. Her voice had been so protective, so defiant, as she'd told him off.

Under his breath, Christopher said to himself, "He may be a jackass . . . "

Wyatt must have known exactly what Christopher was thinking, because he, too, sadly smiled and said with his laughing brother, " — But he's _our_ jackass."

"Pardon me," Piper snapped.

"Nothing," the brothers said together, eyes snapping forward and smiles quickly wiped from their faces.

Paige looked at the expressions on her nephews' faces and grumped, "I think I like it better when you two are beating each other to a pulp. At least then we know what's going on."

"Sorry, guys. Future consequences." When his aunt glared at him, Christopher rapidly changed the subject, not wanting to live under that stare for too long. He'd had enough of the staring of all kinds for a week now. "Nevermind. Look, I hate to admit it, but Wyatt's probably right: he needs to be there. I know there's no talking Dad out of coming, but he's going to be so distracted by what we're seeing that he isn't going to be of much use to me. Having a set of eyes that's seen it all before is probably going to be more help than hurt at this point. Besides, we're aiming for the worst day of his life. I'm guessing I was there, but still, he's going to know what happened better than me."

"Not to be rude, but that still doesn't answer my question. Can we _trust_ him?"

Christopher looked at Wyatt, who walked away and didn't bother to meet anyone's eyes. He was suddenly fascinated with a squeaky floorboard he found under his shoe. The younger of the brothers watched his big brother only long enough to see that he didn't have an answer to the question himself. It had been so long that he wasn't sure where to find his brother in there, not for sure. He knew that Wyatt was back to them for the most part, but whatever had happened to him, that much evil in his mind for that long wasn't going to just go away without leaving a mark. It was probably the reason Wyatt had been able to say the things he'd said and been able to bring himself to hurt Christopher the way he had. No matter what, Wyatt would always be scarred by his time away from them. That wasn't something that was going to get the trust of his family back right away, even from Christopher. Still, it was Wyatt there in front of him. Scarred or not, he was still Wyatt and he was seemingly good again. That had to count for something, at least until they knew better.

Softly, Christopher answered all of their waiting faces, "We're working on it."

As Wyatt nodded his _Thanks_ at his brother, their father came back into the attic looking like he'd had a successful negotiation with their spirit guide. Leo spotted his eldest and waved him over. "Wyatt, we're going to need to go over a few details here before Clyde can open the door if we're going to get to the right day."

Wyatt turned to his brother for one last reassurance before this plan of his quite possibly dragged them both down into the dregs again. "You're sure about this? Because you know what day it's probably going to need to be, and — "

"As sure as I'm going to get. Go."

As Leo, Wyatt, and Clyde all gathered in the corner of the attic to discuss the details of the day that they needed to find in the younger man's past, Christopher walked over to the playpen where the two boys were back to sleep. Little Wyatt's hand was protectively close to his baby brother, the crusty old teddybear he hated discarded. Even in sleep, however, Little Wyatt was apparently aware of what was going on around him because just as Christopher's eyes peeked over the edge of the makeshift playpen, his warbly blue bubble appeared to shelter himself and his brother without him even opening his eyes.

For the first time, Christopher wasn't hurt by the action. Instead, he smiled and whispered down to the kids, "We're going to be you guys again real soon. I promise you. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Getting any good ideas," asked Piper as she came up next to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

"Just trying to remember what that was like. It's been a long time since we were them."

"Would it help if I remind you right now that he's here and he seems to be saved?" Piper shrugged, as if saying what she was about to say was going to be easier to get out if she treated it like it was nothing. It didn't work, but she tried. "If nothing else, at least you have that knowledge that he _can_ be saved. That was something that Chris never had. When he died, Wyatt had been kidnapped and he knew that I was in trouble with his labor. He . . . He died without knowing if he had even come close. You know. You did it. Your brother was saved, at least from your point in time. You have your brother back."

Christopher digested what she said and knew she was right. He had that much. Still, they still had a long, long way to go. "It'll be better if he never leaves at all."

"And you'll see to it that he doesn't."

"Everyone seems to think so."

Seeing the weight in her son's shoulders, something she had recognized too late in the other Chris, she tried to encourage him. After all, if they knew they had put their trust in the right person, maybe he should be willing to trust their judgement. Confidently, she suggested, "Well, if _everyone_ thinks so, maybe you should, too."

"I'll work on it."

"It looks like they're wrapping things up over there, so, before you go," started Piper, taking both of Christopher's hands in hers. "I don't know exactly what's happening here. I don't understand how he got here or what you're doing now or any of it. But I want you to know, I do know that you are _you_, not him. You didn't exactly let me finish last night, and you left before I got to make my point. Feelings of pride aside, bad word choices aside, I trust you to do the right thing. That was what I was going for last night. Chris may have made the road a lot easier for you with us in the Here and Now, but I do know that you're you and you still have a job to do. I trust _you_. So go, do a job. We'll figure the rest out when you get back."

Christopher didn't know what to say. Part of him was grateful to hear the words, but he was a little jealous, too. She said she knew the difference, but sometimes he wondered if she was just saying what she was to make up for what she didn't say with the other version of himself. He supposed that it didn't really matter. She was saying it, wasn't she? That had to count for something. Of all the things in this world he had to be mad at her for, this really wasn't one of them. If it made her feel better to say it amidst all of this chaos, he supposed he could give her this. She may have been missing from his life for a long time now, but she was still his mom. He could give her something. That was a chance no one else ever really got. Giving her the best smile he could give her under the circumstances, he bent over and kissed her forehead. "Love you, Mom. I'll get him back for us. Trust me."

"I do, Sweetie. Now go. I'll see you when you get back." With a reassuring smile, Christopher went off as he was told, needing to go over a few last minute things with his father anyway. Seeing Christopher occupied, Piper called Wyatt over to her, needing to say a few things to him as well.

The man looked almost sheepish as he approached his mother, not entirely sure where it was that they stood at the moment. They'd all said a lot of things that could be taken so many different ways in the last few hours that none of them were probably in control of a whole lot. All Wyatt knew was that he didn't think, on top of everything else, that he could handle having her say anything condemning of him right now. He was beating himself up as it was. Still, he tried to be hopeful as he greeted her. "Hey."

Piper reached a hand up, moving through his flinch away, to wipe a smudge of blood from his cheek. She smiled up at him with a tight, business end smile. "You're your brother's keeper, you know that, right?"

Wyatt was caught slightly off guard by the question, but he answered honestly, "Every minute of every day. That has never and will never change."

"So I can trust you to look out for him while you're gone?"

The man bit back a laugh, falling into the old position he'd once held as Son and Brother. He'd heard her say this to him so many times when they were kids that it seemed so natural, but he knew that it couldn't have been. She hadn't been there yet. She had no idea. Still, it was so routine for him that the answer came out the way it always had, oddly reassuring and independent at the same time. "We aren't going to get into trouble, I swear. Dad will be with us and there isn't anything there that can hurt us. It's memory, nothing more."

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Piper, glancing over her shoulder at her ailing sister. "It can hurt a lot more than I think you're prepared for."

"We'll be fine."

The subject took a swift but related change as Piper told her son, "I'm trying, you know? I'm trying to put aside everything we've heard and seen because Christopher seems to think we should. I'm trusting you here to prove him right." She sighed then smiled gently at him. "I know that we have a lot to explain to each other about what's going on here today. Once we can work through what's going on with you, we might be able to explain what's happening with Phoebe. But for now, I guess I just need to say that you can't imagine what this family has been through in the last few months. We're getting through it, but it would make things a lot easier on us if you . . . You just need to find a way, okay? I need you to be safe."

From the center of the room, Leo called out to his son. "Wyatt, we need to go."

Wyatt looked down at his mother and told her reassuringly, "Safe as houses, Piper, I promise."

As her son walked away, Piper called out to him one more time. She wasn't sure if what she was going to say was one last guilt trip that he should look out for his brother or if it was a reminder to herself that she was talking to her son and he was okay. Whatever it meant, she still said, "Wyatt?"

"Hmm?"

"It's nice to meet you."

Christopher's head cocked to the side as his mother smiled at the two of them. His eyes squinted at her, studying her until he could figure out what she was trying to say. After a beat, he decided that it didn't really matter. His mother was trying to understand the thing that he'd been trying to understand for the last seven years, how his brother could still be in there somewhere and what he was going to be when he came back out. He looked at his brother, who looked back in confusion. Wyatt definitely had no idea what was going on. In that, Christopher found his answer and nodded to his mother. It was definitely their boy. He then took his brother's shoulder and turned him toward the door. To Wyatt he shrugged. "Tell you later."

"Let's get this show on the road, kiddies," Clyde growled impatiently. With that, he opened the door and waved them all inside. The remaining family in the attic heard him grumble about forgetting the popcorn as the door closed behind him.

**II.**

When they all tumbled out of the door, Christopher and Wyatt both spread out through what they knew to be Wyatt's old bedroom. They both looked for any sign that they had ended up on the correct day when they heard a crash from upstairs. As young Wyatt looked up at the ceiling in response, they all heard a scream. Without a further thought, they were all orbed up into the attic. As the orbs fell away to reveal a crumpled teenaged Christopher, Wyatt let out a painful sigh. Christopher didn't say anything, but the look he gave his brother was all he needed to say. Bringing Wyatt along was absolutely a very bad idea.

Christopher vividly remembered the hand that Wyatt had stretched down to him to help him up after the demon had been quickly dispensed with. In his mind, it had been the last time he'd been able to look into his brother's eyes and see Wyatt there, not whatever it was that had set up shop in his body. He saw that look in Wyatt's eyes again for what he knew was going to be the last time as that hand came down and his past self grabbed it gratefully. Christopher watched as he'd seen his brother look at his teenaged self for the last time in true concern, with love, and with fear. He wanted to freeze the moment that he had replayed so many times in his mind as his brother asked his past, "_Are you okay?_"

"_Ask me again in a couple of minutes_," they all heard the past Christopher say ruefully, gingerly making sure his ribs were still there and in only a few pieces instead of the hundred they felt like. "_Oooww_."

"_Let me look._"

"_Nah, I'm okay,_" the young Christopher said, swiping blood away from his busted lip. "_I'll ice it later. Right now I just want to find out who that guy was before Mom sees this mess and freaks out that anything got this close to us today. She's had enough to worry about this week._"

"_And she doesn't need to see you broken_," young Wyatt countered with his Big Brother voice. "_Now let me at least fix your side. I'm not going to let you walk around all day like an old grandma when I can do something about it._"

"Do you kids know what day this is," asked Leo as he took in the sights, his head craning around to see what changes he could find in the attic. The furniture was different from what it had been the day he'd been to the future. He could see The Book not too far away from them, and from what he could see of the cover through the slats on the podium, the triquetra was still intact. Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary, or at least, as out of the ordinary as their lives would one day get. When neither of his sons responded, he asked, "Wyatt? This is supposed to be your past. Do you know where we are?"

"Exactly where we need to be. Exactly where we don't want to be. Take your pick."

"He means '_yes_'," said Christopher, looking to the door expectantly. As a very young, pre-growth spurt Lucy came into the room, he smiled at her. As she excitedly started for Wyatt, Christopher explained, "We were supposed to orb out into the middle of nowhere, rent a car, and just hang out that day. Mom offered to spend some time with her, but she wanted Wyatt and me. She and Mom weren't getting along so well at this time in their lives. Lucy refused to unbind her powers, still, and it was getting harder to keep her out of trouble at the time. Mom was afraid she wouldn't be able to defend herself and get herself killed. There were a lot of fights, a lot, and some of them got really ugly."

"_Sorry, Lulabelle,_" young Wyatt said, calling their sister by a long-forgotten nickname. "_Something came up_." The girl didn't say anything, but the disappointment glistened in her eyes. It was clear that she had heard that one a few times too many that day. Immediately young Wyatt tried to cheer her up with a negotiation. "_Tell you what. I know I'm already late for our —_"

"_It's okay_," she said before he could finish his thought, taking in the mess that littered the attic. "_I didn't actually expect us to get away anyway. Can I at least stay at your place tonight? I really don't want to talk to Mom right now. It would be better if I could be a somewhere that's else tonight. I'll help you clean up if you bust me outta here._"

From around the corner, Piper turned into the doorway, arms crossed over her chest like she had been listening unhappily the entire time. "_No, you cannot stay with your brother this evening. We're going to settle this_." Piper looked at her two boys with her Mom Face, the one that warned them against arguing with her in the least. "_Boys, we need the room_."

"_Mom_ — " Wyatt started peaceably, his pacifist half kicking in immediately, only to be cut off by his mother again.

"_Christopher, why are you bleeding?_"

Both boys groaned, obviously caught without having formulated a plan or explanation. They glanced at one another, silently fighting over which one of them was going to have to explain what happened. They were both good at coming up with the right cover story when it came to anyone but their mother, but neither of them was very good at lying to her in the least. Still, Christopher was better at it. When he knew he'd lost, the young Christopher stepped forward with a calm that seemed to take hold of them all. "_It's just a scrape. I would have told you if it were more. I didn't think it was worth mentioning._"

"_So, apparently, is the answer to the question I asked you,_" said Piper, not fooled by her son's evasion attempt. "_I didn't ask you if you were hurt. I asked you _why_ you're hurt._"

"_Seriously, Mom, it was nothing. If I was in real trouble, I would have told you right away._"

Piper apparently wasn't at all convinced because her glare darkened, even for her. She gestured widely at the damage done to the attic and sarcastically smiled. "_Really? Then where did this mess come from, if it was nothing?_"

"_I kind of panicked and didn't want to wait for Wyatt_," teenaged Chris said, shrugging sheepishly. "_There were three of them. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't mean to. I just sort of _did_ it._"

Concerned now, young Wyatt asked, "_What did you do?_"

"_I kind of used a power that I don't use — ever_."

Understanding immediately, young Wyatt nodded sadly. "_Something from Dad_."

"_Yeah_." Young Christopher looked at his brother, knowing he understood immediately. The boy's face changed a little, crinkling in confusion as he addressed both his mother and brother. "_The thing is, they seemed to expect me to do it. It was almost like they wanted me to. After the first one was gone, the other two shimmered out before I could take them out, too. The one even said, '_They told us he would demonstrate'_, like it was just a test._"

The elder of the brothers clenched his fists, something that Christopher noticed this time around that he hadn't noticed before. He really didn't like the look on the face of the echo of his brother as his entire body seemed to tense for a battle. "_They?_"

At the same time, Piper fumed at her son. "_And you didn't think I should know about this?_"

"_It just happened_."

"_Nothing 'just happens' in this household, Christopher, you know that,_" said the past Piper, not understanding her son's meaning. "_Do you have any idea what it would do to me if anything happened to you? To any of you? You have to tell me these things. It's hard enough that I have to deal with your sister and her temporary insanity over her powers. I can't have you keeping secrets from me. If your father was here — _"

"_Mom, it wasn't like that,_" young Christopher started.

At the same time, their very young sister defensively said, "_Don't yell at him because you're mad at me_."

Apparently fed up with all of her children for the moment, Piper put her foot down. "_Clean this mess up, Christopher. No magic to do it, either. We will discuss this when Paige and Phoebe get home tonight. We're going to figure out who these demons were. Wyatt, I want you to stay here tonight instead of going back to your place. These demons seemed to know a lot about your brother. I'm not taking any chances that they know as much about you. The two of you are not to go anywhere without each other until this is cleared up. Questions? Comments? Criticisms? No? _Excellent" The toughest of Piper's words were reserved for her youngest and only daughter. She turned on Lucy, none too happy. "_And you, little girl . . ._"

As Piper started to tear into their little sister for the umpteenth time that week after threat of attack, Young Wyatt leaned in and said in a low voice, "_Don't let them yell at each other too long. Phoebe will be home from work soon_."

Leo watched Piper and Lucy go at it out of the corner of one eye while listening and watching his younger sons with the other. He'd been trying to be good and not ask too many questions, as Christopher had asked of him, but that certainly seemed like something he should know. "Why would Phoebe coming home matter?"

"The one concession the sisters made after Lucy took the binding potion was that she wouldn't take an empathic blocking potion so that Phoebe would always be able to tell how she was feeling in case there was any trouble. When Mom and Lucy were fighting, it made Phoebe sick, it got so bad there. The fighting got especially bad after Wyatt moved out to go to college. Mom was worried all the time, Lu was going through a lot, and they kind of took it out on each other."

As Christopher explained to his father what was going on, the younger version of himself questioned the witch at his side. "_Where are you going?_"

"_I need to take care of something_," young Wyatt said, the anger in his voice a shadow of the darkness that was to set up shop in his words for years to come. "_I won't be long_."

Christopher shrugged at his brother, recognizing the tone of Wyatt's voice; there was no changing his big brother's mind when he sounded like that. Casual as can be, he said, "_Be careful_."

"_Will do_." With that, the world that they were all in turned into the white, tingly world of an orb.

When the orbs pulled away from them, Christopher looked around in amazement when he realized where they were. He'd never been Up There; he'd never had a reason to be there. Without their father, they were just a couple of kids who needed guidance themselves before they would ever be prepared to give guidance to others. Of course, neither of them ever intended to help Them and embrace their angelic halves doing odd jobs for the Elders. They had heard far too much from their father (when he was alive) and mother to ever want to have anything to do with the Elders. The Elders had ruined a good portion of their lives and would get no help from the Halliwell family ever again. Secretly he wondered how Wyatt even knew how to get There because they suddenly were just _there_, as if he'd done it a million times before. It's not like it was just an orb over to the other side of the world; this was Up There. Christopher didn't like it, not one bit. From the look on his brother's face, he wasn't all that happy about it either.

"What are we doing _here_," asked Christopher.

"Making trouble for Moose and Squirrel," Wyatt replied, only to get a dark look from his brother. Defensively, he said, "You'll see. And believe me, you'll like it about as much as I did."

"I thought you didn't have any contact with the Elders besides Charlie," asked Leo.

"We didn't," said Christopher, who was still staring at his brother in disbelief. "Did we?"

Wyatt gestured toward where his younger self was angrily storming into a sort of meeting or meditation room. "Watch and learn."

Young Wyatt looked around at the seemingly faceless robes milling around without purpose, looking more than a little out of place in his jeans and hooded sweatshirt. He opened his mouth several times to say something, closing it before the words could form. He looked down at his hands, though, and saw what Christopher assumed must have been his blood from a few moments ago and cringed. An anger came over the young man's face as he called, "_I need to talk to somebody_."

Several hoods turned toward him, but only one stepped closer to the witch. "_What are you doing here, Wyatt? You haven't been summoned._"

"_I need to talk to somebody in charge. Who do I talk to?_"

The hood fell to the Elder's shoulders, revealing the kindly face of an old man of (at least cosmetically) around seventy. The smile did not reach his eyes, however, as he asked, "_What can I do for you?_"

"_You can tell me why you sent a demon after my brother this afternoon, for starters,_" young Wyatt accused without hesitation. "_And then you can tell me why, if you weren't going to uphold your end of the deal, I shouldn't have just destroyed all of you twelve years ago for contracting the Darklighters that killed my father._"

As Leo gasped in surprise at his son's future accusations, Wyatt harrumphed in disgust.

"_Wyatt, I am sure — _"

"_WE HAD A DEAL!_"

The Elder Leo knew as Octavius didn't deny young Wyatt's accusation. Instead, his face remained impassive as the past Wyatt took a step back from the angel. "_The only thing you need to know is that your brother needed reminding where he comes from. An issue about his safety was brought to Our attention. The two of you boys, you're of great concern to Us all. The service of Good needs the both of you together, not just you. That is all I can tell you. For the record, We never intended for your father to die. He was supposed to come back to Us. He is a part of Us, Wyatt. When he was merely a Whitelighter, it might have been possible to let him go, but he chose to become that part of Us. To leave was out of the question._"

Young Wyatt's face twisted into a deer in headlights look, completely taken off guard by the conclusion his mind was quickly coming to. "_His death actually worked out for you, then, didn't it? But you weren't counting on me. You knew you would have to come after Christopher one day. You want my brother. You want him dead because You screwed up in ever letting him be born. You're afraid of him. You can't control him, just like You couldn't control our father. He can know things, see things that only You can see, because of Dad. He's has too much power over You. He knows something You don't want him to know. He maybe doesn't _know_ it yet, but he knows something._"

Octavius smiled oddly patient at the young witch as he explained, "_With you, We at least had a prophecy foretelling of your arrival. You were to be the twice-blessed, a child of such concentration of magical power, even more powerful than the foretold Charmed Ones. You were to bring chaos into the magical world and only a great battle would decide your fate, whether you would be a force for Good or Evil._"

"_Yeah, I know that,_" young Wyatt snapped in irritation. "_Everybody does_."

"_So then you understand why We fear your existence at all._"

The past Wyatt's eyes narrowed angrily into slits so tight that it made him look like he was going to blow up every single Elder in the heavens if any of Them looked at him cross-eyed. "_Not really,_ _but that's not really why I'm here. Christopher — _"

"_— is of even greater concern. There was no warning. Such a concentration of power, even more than in you, should never have been allowed to be brought into this world. If certain individuals had understood that . . . _"

"_What individuals?_"

"_It doesn't matter now. We believe that he tried to do what was right for everyone. He failed._"

"_Who tried what? What the hell are you talking about?_"

The calm of Octavius's voice was enough to grate all of the observers' nerves. He was frustratingly serene as he continued to present the Elders' side, visibly annoying the young Wyatt. "_Mistakes have been made. If your father had only agreed to stay with Us after the event, we might have been able to place the two of you under Our protection. As it is, Leo refused to cooperate. We thought that the attack on your home would have convinced him to return home to Us, but the mercenaries chosen were unreliable and We lost a good force for the world. I am sorry, my son, but We cannot make that mistake again._"

Young Wyatt started to pace in front of the Elder, addressing the angel with a certain confidence that Christopher didn't recognize as belonging to his brother at the time. "_When I came to you after my father died, you told me that my brother would be safe. You told me that you would never come after him the way you had my father. You _swore _to me! You all disgust me. I will never forgive the hell you put my parents through. To protect my family from You ever meddling in our lives ever again, I agreed to fulfill my Whitelighter duties. You had one condition. One. Why was it acceptable then and not now?_"

"_You were a child,_" the Elder scoffed.

"_How does that change anything? Where I come from, a deal is still a deal, no matter how old a guy is._"

"_Where We come from, young man, Whitelighters don't have the option of whether or not to do their jobs._"

Christopher recognized the vein that throbbed in the young Wyatt's temple, signifying the very end of his patience. He'd been on the instigating end of that pulsating thread on more than a few occasions. Still, he would never get used to it, and as young Wyatt blew his stack, Christopher flinched at the voice. Young Wyatt seethed, "_My family is off-limits. I will not tell You again._"

"W_e cannot answer to threats, Wyatt, not even from an abomination such as yourself_."

"_Yeah?_ _Then don't worry about it because the abomination just quit_."

Before any of the Elders could react to Wyatt's rather loud and vehement pronouncement, a hand grabbed the witch at the elbow and pulled him away with a sharp tug. Young Wyatt whipped around to see his attacker, only to find a troubled-looking Charlie.

When Christopher saw his Whitelighter and former future brother-in-law, he sucked in a surprised breath. "Charlie?" He glanced sideways at his brother in confusion. "You knew Charlie?"

Wyatt shrugged at his brother, knowing fully well that Christopher was going to get his answer in a moment anyway. Instead of bothering to offer anything else, Wyatt just gestured toward the scene in front of them with a smile of _Watch and find out_.

Charlie stood planted in front of Wyatt with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the boy pacing furiously in front of him. His voice was just as Christopher remembered, calm and patient with complete understanding, as if he knew what a guy was thinking even before he did. With that voice, he told his friend, "_Wyatt, you have to calm down. Coming up here and busting heads isn't going to help anyone, especially Christopher._"

"_Calm down? They just tried to kill my brother, Charlie!_"

Softly, Charlie laid a hand on each of young Wyatt's shoulders and anchored him to the spot. His voice commanded the witch's attention as he reminded his friend, "_And They were unsuccessful. Christopher is okay, Wyatt. And now you'll be prepared for the next time. You need to settle down or you're going to be useless to him and to yourself._"

Young Wyatt raked a hand through his hair and huffed out a rather angry air, but he was visibly starting to calm down just enough to at least lower his voice and not spit out every word. "_That's a great bunch of guys you work for, Man. Seriously._"

"_I don't work for Them. I work for the Good Guys._ _These guys are just a means for me, same as They are for you. They have information we can't get anywhere else. That doesn't mean I like it. You know we need to know what They know. We don't know what kind of powers Christopher has. For all we know, he is even more powerful than you. We know he has powers that he has yet to access. I doubt he knows that he has them, but if he finds them in the wrong way, he could very well be completely unstoppable. I know you want to protect him from that. I want to protect him, too. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. I made a promise to your father a long time ago that I would take care of you three._"

For a moment, young Wyatt seemed to forget where he was and started to talk to Charlie as if they were just as comfortable sitting in a bar somewhere, planning strategy for a coming boardroom war instead of the one that they all knew had eventually come between the brothers. Friend to friend, young Wyatt confided, "_This is going to get ugly, Charlie. I can feel it. They are _never_ going to let us go, just like They wouldn't let Dad just be with us. I don't know what it is, but I know They want Chris for something special. It isn't just his power, either. It's . . . I know it's just a feeling, but I swear it's something. I mean, am I wrong?_"

"_You're not. And you know whose side I'm on when it goes down._"

Both of the Wyatts smiled at the Whitelighter gratefully. "_You're the only friend I've got up here. I can't — there's no one else. It's just us and Them. If anything happens, I need your word that you'll protect my family. If I can't get there or — I can't lose him. I can't._"

"_You don't even have to ask. No matter what, your family will be safe with me._" The two shared a nod, then Charlie nodded toward the buzzing Elders. "_Go. I'll talk Them down. We're going to be okay._"

"_Promise?_"

Young Wyatt obviously hadn't waited for a reply other than a quick laugh from Charlie because they were all orbed out of the heavens without any delay.

Teenaged Christopher was pacing as they orbed in, and it looked like he had been worrying a hole in the floorboards for quite a while. The boy's head snapped up when he saw his brother, very unhappy. "_Where have you been?_"

"_Taking care of business,_" young Wyatt replied distractedly. He looked his brother up and down, obviously still very much concerned and more than a little on edge from his meeting. "_Are you okay? Did anything happen while I was gone?_"

The younger of the brothers was apparently just as concerned about his big brother because he completely ignored Wyatt's concern and continued with his line of thinking. "_That doesn't sound good._"

"_You worry too much_," young Wyatt smiled uneasily at his brother, visibly uncomfortable with the lie.From the look on his face, his brother didn't believe him, either. "_What?_"

"_I don't think I've _ever_ seen you this mad over a little attack and a split lip. I got a little roughed up, sure, but it's not this bad. What's going on?_"

"_Let's just say that I'm starting to wonder who the Good Guys are or who is even on our side anymore. But I don't want you to worry about it, okay? You have enough to worry about right now. You should be working, not having to deal with kamikaze demons. All you need to know is that I'm taking care of it_."

Leo glanced at his sons, who were quietly circling around their past selves as their lives played out in front of them like a weird simulation like the ones on the old _Star Trek_ shows their uncle Henry liked. Worriedly, Leo asked, "What is he talking about?"

"I was supposed to graduate from high school a few weeks after this," Christopher explained without even a hint of sadness or regret. "I was supposed to be writing my Valedictory speech that day."

"'Supposed to'? What happened," asked Leo, not knowing what was ahead for them.

Christopher answered blankly, "My life."

"_Kamikaze_," asked teenaged Christopher, no more deterred from his brother's furious features than he had been before. "_Wyatt, come on. He was trying to kill _me_. I think I have a right to know why._"

"_Let's just say that I have it on pretty good authority that the guy sent here to kill you this afternoon knew he wasn't getting out of this one alive. It was a message, _for me_, not a — _"

Everyone turned toward the attic door as a breathless child of about ten came bursting through the door. "_De-demons. Downstairs. They took Jack and Sam._"

A crash from downstairs announced the arrivals of at least one more threat into the house. The pasts of Wyatt and Christopher looked at each other once, silently communicating a plan to one another without much of a look at all. Christopher quickly orbed out while Wyatt crossed to the child. He knelt down at eye level of the little boy and offered a reassuring smile. "_It's going to be okay. Find the others then say the spell together. Stay together and do not so much as think about leaving sanctuary until either Christopher or I come for you. Understand?_" The little boy nodded, even though he looked terrified. "_Good job. Now go._"

With that, they all orbed downstairs to where Christopher and Piper were both making a mad dash to the center of the room. Completely out in the open, Lucy was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the demon in front of her. It was only as the fireball in his hand was deployed that she seemed to realize the danger. She dropped her shoulders and covered her head with her hands, trying to make herself as small as possible. When the ball was just barely an inch from her, past Wyatt pulled her close to him and orbed them back out.

Piper and her children regrouped in the corner near the fireplace, the three of them pushing Lucy down to the floor hard. Wyatt stormed to the front of the group, energy balls blazing in each hand. At the demon's side, two completely identical demons shimmered in on either side of him, flaming crossbows armed and ready.

Excitedly, young Christopher told his brother, "_Watch out. Those are the guys from this morning._"

"_This time, I won't miss,_" said the demon on the right with a very deliciously dark look at the younger of the brothers.

"_Look at him like that again and his face will be the last thing you see,_" threatened young Wyatt.

None of the trio bothered to reply to the witch's threat. Instead, they all released their weapons of choice on the family. Wyatt easily deflected the fireball and one of the flaming arrows, but one was able sneak past him.

Behind him, Lucy growled as both her mother and brother shoved her face into the floor with Christopher pretty much throwing his body over her. Practically suffocating, the girl screamed a muffled, "OW! _There's a head attached under there, you know._"

The demons shimmered out of the living room as Wyatt took a good chunk out of the arm of one of them with a well-aimed energy ball. Wyatt immediately crossed the space between himself and his family, took his mother's hand, and ordered Christopher, "_Follow close_."

"_Right behind you_," Christopher said as he hauled himself to his feet.

"_We are definitely finishing this discussion when I get home,_" Piper told Lucy as she and Wyatt orbed out.

When the orbs settled around the past Wyatt and the travelers attached to him, they discovered that they were in a maze of caves. There was little light to see by, making their job even harder.

"What is this place," asked Leo.

"A trap," Christopher laughed blackly without meaning to. At the same time, the past Christopher was looking at his mother and brother, asking, "_You know this is a trap, right?_"

Fireballs lit up in the palms of each of the three demons, lighting the cave so that they could all see what was going on. The one in the middle sneered the answer to teenaged Christopher's question, "_Of course it is. That's what we brought the bait for. The question is, which one of you is this a trap for? Hmm?_"

Christopher saw something flicker on his brother's face that he hadn't seen the first time he'd lived this day. Seeing it in the context of what had transpired for Wyatt Up There, Christopher felt so sorry for his brother. That wasn't anger on Wyatt's face like he'd thought ever since. That was fear. That was panic. Wyatt had known before anything was even said that his meeting with the Elders hadn't gone all that well. If anything, Christopher could see now that Wyatt's visit had merely provided Them with the distraction that They had needed.

"God, I was so stupid," Wyatt said next to Christopher, as if he could hear what his little brother was thinking.

Trying to be reassuring, Christopher offered, "We were still kids, Wyatt. You couldn't have known. We were both still kids, and you did what you thought was best in Dad's place. I know that. We all knew that. There is no way you could have known."

"Couldn't have known what," asked Leo.

Neither son answered their father as the memory of their mother stared down the trio of demons while an identical four more shimmered in behind them, ready and able. Piper had remained calm, though, merely ordering her younger son to find his cousins as she closed ranks with her oldest.

"_Go ahead and look_," the leader taunted. "_Find them even. It doesn't mean that you're going to leave with them._"

"_Let them go,_" Piper commanded.

The leader ignored her and grinned at Wyatt, saliva dripping out the sides of his mouth in wicked pleasure. He laughed at the young man as he said, "_I bring a message from your employers. They do not tolerate ultimatums._"

Leo lost his voice for a moment, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. Christopher, on the other hand, was a little more prepared for what he had heard. His mind stumbled over the idea as he tried to find its logical conclusion. "They did this? They sent . . . The Elders . . ."

Wyatt seemed to put another piece of the puzzle together and finished Christopher's thought for him. "They had the wrong threat. They thought it was going to be you, but instead They created me."

"_And we don't tolerate threats, so I guess that makes your job a little obsolete now, doesn't it,_" said Piper as she flicked her wrists at the demon to pull its attention to her and away from her kids. She also had spared the split second it took to give her eldest the EvilMom Eye to let him know that she was going to want to know who exactly these 'employers' were.

While the memory moved forward, Clyde blew a raspberry at the two witches in his charge. He was clearly amused with them so far. He was actually starting to like them, even if they were Leo's kids. Then again, he liked Leo, but if anyone ever asked him that, he'd deny it to the grave. He couldn't help but give the kids a hint. Casually crossing his arms over his chest, he told them, "Who did or didn't do what is the least of your worries right now."

"Then what is," asked Leo.

"Couldn't tell ya," shrugged Clyde. "You know the deal, Leo. I just open the door. I don't answer questions, especially when the answers are so damned obvious. But your kids could answer you just fine if they would just open their eyes."

The Halliwell boys would have had something to say to that if they weren't so busy trying to watch what was still playing out in front of them. In the backs of their minds, they both knew that this little trip to their past was probably going to play out just right for them and get them the answers that they needed, but at the same time, neither one of them was very good at sitting still when they were surrounded by battle. It was not in the nature of either of them to watch as innocents (particularly family) were under attack. Being forced to sit on their hands and just watch, so to speak, was clearly getting to them both. They took turns flinching and starting as punches were thrown, energy balls were deployed, and the younger children screamed. None of what they were seeing was currently real, but it would never feel that way to either man, no matter how many times they were forced to relive this part of their lives. It would always be real and they would always want to help, simple as that.

As it was, they were both trying to keep from jumping in to rescue the two kids, even as they saw the young Christopher tiptoeing over to where Jack and Sam were cowering behind a jutting rock formation. They watched him check the two smaller boys over for injuries, give each of them a reassuring rumple of the hair, then orb the two kids out of the Underworld with a synchronized wave of his hands. They were almost rooting for Christopher's counterpart, as if watching a movie, when they were both painfully reminded of what was standing directly behind the boy.

Claws that Christopher to this day thought reminded him of Freddy Krueger's glove sliced into his younger self's back with one hand as the demon reached with his other to pull Christopher back by the scruff of his neck. Absently, Christopher reached behind him, rubbing his neck as he recalled the pain. He focused his attention then on the memory of his brother, knowing that it was entirely possible that the moment of Wyatt's loss could be coming when the younger man would hear his kid brother's screams of agony. For the half second remaining, Wyatt was engrossed in his battle with the demon who appeared to be heading up the operation. Their mother was taking on two at a time, flicking her wrists left and right, vanquishing as many as she could and still keep an eye on her kids.

At the sound of Christopher's scream, Wyatt's attention had immediately been split. It had been just long enough for the demon to get a good lick in with a fireball. Furious, Wyatt had simply swung Excalibur without thinking about it, letting the weapon think for him. The demon's head had fallen to an enthusiastic "YES" from Leo's little corner of the past.

From either side of the cave came thunderous screams, bouncing off one another and the walls. Two distinct voices — his mother and his brother. Wyatt looked between them, torn, but his face quickly settled in determination. He only had time to help one of them, and his brother was smaller and less experienced. Their mother was one of the Charmed Ones. She would have to handle herself. His brother needed him more.

Seeing himself storm off toward the other end of the cave, Wyatt said as if he needed to defend himself, "I made a choice. I made the only decision I could make."

Leo placed a hand on his son's shoulder to get his attention, confused and dreading what was coming, judging from what he was seeing in his boy's eyes. "Wyatt?"

As young Wyatt charged the demon that had cornered his brother, the elder Christopher closed his eyes with a low moan. He swallowed hard, unable to watch what, if he counted the seconds off in his head, would be happening in exactly fourteen seconds from now. He'd replayed this scene enough in his head; he should know. He held his breath, the Mississippis heading into the single digits as the event got closer. Helpless to do anything else, he whispered the answer his father was looking for.

"Here it comes."

Both Christopher and Wyatt turned their heads away from the battle around them just half a second before the blow came that had ended so much of their lives. Neither of them needed to have looked to know what their father was talking about when he started swearing a blue streak under his breath. Even Clyde turned a little green at the sight and uttered a grunt of disgust.

When the Wyatt from their past furiously unleashed the full glory of Excalibur to vanquish the demon that had been attacking his brother, the younger Christopher had had to roll away from the flames before they caught his own clothing on fire. He'd flopped breathlessly onto his back, did the requisite check to make sure all of the parts were still attached, then just lay there, enjoying the fact that he was still alive. He clutched his side, sinking his fingers into the sticky mess that remained of his shirt. Wyatt had quickly dashed to his side, looking his brother over from head to toe to do the same check. His hands glowed so brightly that they could actually see around them in the cave for the few seconds needed to patch young Christopher up. As the light died down and they both saw that the other was safe, the two unaware boys heaved in relief. Young Wyatt stood and reached his arm down to the past Christopher with a sarcastic but obviously loving grin. "_That's twice in one day, little brother. One of these times, you're going to owe me_."

The past Christopher had started to smile, but it had dropped off his face in a hurry. The sarcastic comment he'd prepared hung in the air, unspoken, as his eyes and ears had started a wild, panicked search. Christopher remembered thinking that he already knew the answer to his question even before he'd asked it. Seeing the look on his past self's face, he knew that he was right. There was a look of such defeat on his face as his younger self asked the question Christopher had heard a million times in his mind since. "_Wyatt, wh-where's Mom?_"

Christopher carefully watched the expression on his past brother's face at the moment he saw their mother. He had always thought that her death had been the trigger (or whatever he was supposed to call it) that had changed his brother forever. Whenever he tried to figure out how and when they had lost Wyatt, this was always the moment he would come back to. With any luck, if he watched carefully enough, he would see it now. He could see how it happened and find a way to stop it.

Wyatt, on the other hand, was backing away from his brother, watching the past Christopher's face instead. He had seen these moments in his head so many times that it was like a needle stuck at the blank end of a record. Over and over, he saw them happen in exactly the same way. The problem was, Christopher had been standing behind him that day. He had never seen what had happened, never saw what this moment had done to Christopher. Wyatt knew he wasn't going to like it, but he needed to see the light go out of his brother's eye, like it had that morning when they'd lost their sister and like they had when they'd lost their father. Every time one of them left, another piece of Christopher had gone with them. This time, Wyatt needed to see it happen. Maybe then he could understand . . .

When it happened, when the past echoes of the brothers found their mother gutted and discarded on the cave floor like a piece of rotten meat, it took everything either of their present counterparts had to keep standing. Christopher kept trying to remind himself that this had happened a long time ago, that it wasn't real, and that he was there to do a job. _And miles to go before I sleep_, he told himself, over and over, as if he could actually believe that that would make it better. Wyatt bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, and spit out what little bile was left in his stomach from before he'd arrived in the past. Either way, they were both too wrapped up in the moment to notice that their father wasn't faring much better than them.

Leo drew blood from his lip as he bit down hard to keep from swearing in front of his kids. He knew it was a silly concern, but it was such a habit with the younger versions of the two of them that he forgot that it wasn't something he had to do with them at this stage in their lives. It would have been comical (in his mind, anyway) if he wasn't trying to block the pain with the pain. Two days ago, when he'd had some alone time with Christopher, they had agreed to talk about things so that they could figure out a way to talk about things in front of his wife without actually talking about them. In their conversation, Christopher had vaguely told him about what had happened to his mother, about the circumstances surrounding her death. What Christopher had failed to mention was what Leo was seeing now, how decimated her body had been. He couldn't imagine how the two boys had managed to work through the horror of having to find a way to bring their mother's body home.

In the midst of renewed grief and terror, the two sobbing teenagers found their new grief, hugged each other tight and dropped to the floor. They all watched as young Christopher's hand reached out, trembling, for his mother's foot, but pulled away. They all saw young Wyatt take that hand in his and pull it between them, closing his little brother in a cocoon of his arms, shielding him from the horror for as long as he could. Both the adult Christopher and Wyatt knew, though, that the gesture couldn't protect either of them from the young Christopher's soft, weeping question: "_What do we do? I don't know what to do_."

Then, in the moment that young Wyatt looked at his mother's body for the first time without blinders, truly seeing it, the world seemed to lurch. Before they heard the answer to teenaged Christopher's question, the world blinked black. Suddenly they had the answer to the question in the form of a mausoleum filled with mourners, including a red-eyed Christopher and a steely Wyatt.

Confused as to how they had jumped nearly three days ahead in time, Christopher turned toward their guide to get an answer, but before he could the world fell out from beneath him again. In the black, he could hear whispers but couldn't quite discern the words. A blink of an eye later, they were in the attic, Wyatt huddled alone in a corner, muttering at the stand where The Book rested. The Book lay in the middle of the attic floor as if it had been repelled by an evil force, but as Christopher looked around the room for one, he couldn't see anything other than Wyatt. He couldn't quite hear what the young Wyatt was saying, but certain words popped out at him.

_Protect. Can't. Never. You will. Won't._

Forgetting Clyde for the moment, Christopher tried to turn to Wyatt to ask him about what they had just seen, but again the world turned to blackness. When reality settled in around them again, he found that they were back in the cave again, with young Wyatt reaching a hand down to him to pull him from the ground. Twice in one day, it was all over again.

Leo was the first to voice his confusion even though he was pretty much doing it for all of them. "What the — ?"

They flashed into the black again before receiving an answer, only to flash to earlier in the day when Wyatt had found his brother bloodied in the attic. The moment didn't last long, though. This time, no one even had time to question their situation before they roared forward into the darkness. Snippets of conversation forced their way into the darkness, but not for long. The black seemed to lighten then blacken every few split seconds, with no real consistency. Voices would fade in and out, nothing concrete at all. And then, clear as a bell, three little words pulled out of the darkness that chilled Wyatt to the bone.

_You did this._

The black flew away from their eyes as if forced by a great wind to reveal total destruction at their feet. They could see a very tired, worn looking Wyatt standing in the middle of an alley, ash and burning bodies scattered to either side of him. A bright cluster of orbs was floating away as Wyatt looked up from his bloodied hands and groaned miserably, "_What have you done_?"

His past question would go unanswered at the moment as again the darkness took over, black and cold. This time, though, is was much longer and stronger than before. It held onto each of them, plunging their hearts into a coldness that none of them but Wyatt had ever felt before. It penetrated nearly every cell of their collective being, blocking out any signal of the reality. The only thing that connected them at all to the outside world was that voice, small and barely audible. If they could actually see each other, they would know that none of them could tell where the voice was coming from or where they were or what was going on. It was only when Leo called worriedly out to his sons that they even knew that they still _were_.

"Here," Christopher said reassuringly, even though _Here_ was probably a relative concept at the moment.

"Here," called Wyatt as well.

Somewhere in all of the dark, Leo sighed in cautious relief. His voice made a rapid turn, however, as he turned the only weapon he had on their guide. There was danger in his voice as he asked, "Clyde? What in the hell have you done?"

"Don't ask me," the spirit claimed innocently and with more than just a little irritation. "Ask your kid. This is his life, not mine. I just open the door, People. I don't control where we end up. This is his doing."

Before Wyatt could speak up, his past did the answering for him. The blackness seemed to dim just a little bit, almost like the reverse of the way he remembered the old Warner Brothers cartoons ending with the collapsing circle in the middle of the screen. A small field of vision — his original field of vision, if that was how he could manage to put it to words — let the light in long enough for the searing pain of reality to give him a good sock in the stomach. He could see his father, brother, and Clyde, looking around them and trying to figure out where they were. Wyatt reeled back just a little, remembering very clearly where they were. He supposed it was days apart from where they had been for Christopher, but to him, it was all the same day, the same hell, the same moment trapped in time for him. It was a moment he wished he could take back.

As the fog lifted, so to speak, they were all suddenly very aware of where they were. Christopher looked over at his brother, seeing the sickness flush the man's face. He made to go to Wyatt's side, but the man held his hand out in warning. The younger brother crinkled his eyes at him in question, but Wyatt held his ground and backed away. Unable to understand why, Christopher turned his attention back to the center of the dance floor of their mother's club where a stony looking Wyatt was standing over the body of their cousin Jack.

A flurry of orbs appeared at Wyatt's side with the past Christopher nearly running out of them. He dropped to his knees at Jack's side, hands shaking even though he didn't know what he was doing. Christopher remembered wanting to scream at his brother for his inaction, before the ugly truth would come to him moments from then. He remembered thinking that Wyatt had looked nearly catatonic to him at the time, like he was shocked beyond all belief. He hadn't known what had happened there, only that he'd heard Jack scream Wyatt's name before weakly calling his. He'd come immediately, not liking the fear he'd heard in his cousin's voice.

As the past Christopher's frustration planted itself on his face, Christopher's understanding of the moment shifted dramatically. He knew that in a moment, his past was going to accuse his brother of waiting too long to help or at least call for him. This moment in his life had seemed so clear before. It was the first time that he'd truly realized that they had lost his brother to Evil. Wyatt had seemed strange to him over the last few days — their mother had been gone only three weeks — but they had assumed he was just grieving a little harder than the rest of them. But now . . . He was there to watch, to see through Wyatt's eyes. He understood that. The problem was starting to become a bit clearer to him, though. Seeing, reliving their 100 Most Horrible Moments countdown wasn't going to be helpful if Wyatt hadn't seen them as clearly as he himself had.

"What did I do," asked Wyatt as he backed even further away from his brother and father.

"Wyatt," Christopher started, but he was cut off by his own past yelling at them all.

"_What's going on? Why aren't you trying to heal him? Wyatt, help me!_"

"_Christopher? Chris, I — _"

"_Would you get off your ass and _help_ me? He's — _"

The look of horror on the past Wyatt's face seemed to fill the entire room with despair. Even Clyde appeared to shy away from the scene in front of him. Leo sickly gave voice to the feeling, asking, "What's happening here? We must be seeing it for a reason."

Christopher glanced at Wyatt, who looked almost as lost as his past counterpart, and offered up in explanation, "He's our cousin. This is the first time Wyatt . . ." He took a deep breath, trying to spare his brother's feelings, even though he had to make himself do so. He was so used to just saying what he felt about Wyatt that to be considerate was going to take some work. He winced in Wyatt's direction as he said as kindly as he could without hiding the truth, "We didn't know it until a few weeks later what had happened, but this is the first time that Wyatt killed. It was then that we knew we'd lost him."

"_Chris, get out._"

"_What are you talking about? I can't just _leave"

The look that Christopher had always thought was pure hatred returned to the past Wyatt's face as the man hauled his brother up off the floor by the scruff of his neck. Christopher now saw the look was one of pure terror, even as the energy ball formed in the man's hand. The voice was a combination of threat and fear as Wyatt had shouted in Christopher's ear, "_GET OUT NOW!_"

Helpless to do anything else, the newly orphaned Christopher orbed out in front of them, leaving a sobbing Wyatt to collapse next to the body of their lost cousin. The man's teeth clenched together so tightly that they probably could have broken as Wyatt savagely growled, "_I _will_ protect them. You will _never _get him, do you hear me? You can do your worst, but you will never —_"

When Wyatt's threat to Jack's body cut off, so did all sense of space and time once again. In the blink of an eye, they were plunged into that same damned total vacuum, unaware of anything but the low whispering buzz that they had all heard before. This time, though, they came out it much faster, a tiny moment of dark chaos that, once Christopher realized where they were, he knew was going to be replaced by a moment of white chaos.

"Now where are we," Leo marveled, looking around. The angel was obviously taken aback by the thing he had only briefly heard described as a beautiful moment that he had thought locked only in his memory. Everywhere he looked, snowy magic fell around them. The ice road they stood upon led his eyes to a magnificent castle of ice that somehow glowed with such warmth and care that he could hardly take his eyes off it. Between where Wyatt and Christopher stood, an old fashioned lamp post lit the path that led onto what appeared to be a snow covered golf course. Next to Clyde, a carriage of shaped snow, covered with blankets for wherever the ride was to take the passenger. It was everything Leo remembered and more. Softly, he whispered the answer to his own question, "It's the snow gardens."

"And me," Wyatt said painfully. He nodded his head ten feet behind him toward where his past was standing, shivering in obvious pain. Beyond him, the beauty was marred with the beginning of what he knew was going to be total destruction. Every magical place that they had hid and played in as children would soon lay in ruin at the eldest Halliwell's feet. In the middle of it, running at top speed toward them, was Christopher.

"And apparently me," said a very confused Christopher. "But I . . . I don't remember this." He looked at Clyde suspiciously. "What gives? I thought you couldn't manipulate what we see."

"I can't," growled the spirit. "And you just better watch that attitude, Mister, or I'm going to turn this car around and take you straight home."

"Then how do you explain him," asked Christopher, still heavy on attitude and not caring. Their mission here was a lot more important than one ghost's over-inflated ego. They had his brother's over-inflated ego to cure first. He gestured almost angrily at his past self. "I wasn't here for this. I only found out about it after it happened."

Confused, Wyatt turned on the two of them. "What are you talking about? You're right there, Christopher. I talked to you. I saw you. How do you not remember? You followed me here and tried to stop me, but I — You left. You were mad as hell about it, but you left. You were gone for maybe five minutes, but then you came back. You have to remember. How can you not remember, after all the things I said to you?"

"Seriously, Wyatt, it wasn't me. I didn't know about any of this."

"Christopher, I _talked_ to you."

Curiously, Leo pointed toward the young man running in their general direction. "I think he's right," he offered.

As the past Christopher approached, he looked winded. "_W-Wyatt_," he puffed and swallowed hard from the jog. "_What are you doing?_"

"_Go home, Christopher._"

"_N-no. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on_."

"_You know what's going on_. _I have to do this._"

The past Christopher started in on his brother, but there was something very strange about it. His words were plain; they begged Wyatt not to destroy their second home. But the tone, the tone said something very different, almost as if Christopher was actually trying to goad Wyatt into destroying every single molecule of ice and then some. "_And then what? Where am I going to go? What about the rest of us? We aren't you. We can't just blow somebody up with the blink of an eye or take out entire demonic clans with a swing of a sword. We need this place. I need this place._"

"_I can protect you, Christopher._"

"_You couldn't before. What makes you think you can now?_" There was just a flicker, but Christopher was pretty sure he saw his other self sneer at his big brother. He almost looked like he was enjoying himself as he said, "_You're killing me if you do this._"

"_Go home. Now._"

The past Christopher snipped an almost inaudible "_Fine_" before orbing away with a dark look at his brother. The look chilled Christopher to the bone. He knew fully well that he had never looked at his brother like that. He could never look at Wyatt like that. He just didn't have that kind of darkness in him. He glanced at Wyatt, who shivered as the past Christopher orbed away. He hadn't liked seeing that any more than Christopher had. He was still confused over how that conversation had even happened, considering that he hadn't seen Wyatt at all that day, but he promised himself anyway that he would apologize to his brother for that look when this was all over. He also promised himself that, if they were successful, he would never look at his brother like that ever again. He never wanted to be that cold. Ever.

"That was _not_ me," said Christopher adamantly. To Wyatt, he said, "I would never guilt you like that."

"What are you talking about," scoffed the elder brother. "We all just saw you. You say stuff like that to me all the time."

Before their father could interject, Christopher turned angrily on his brother. His outburst was horribly punctuated by explosion after explosion of ice and snow, their beloved sanctuary starting to crumble around them as the man half cried, half growled at his brother. "You honestly think I would do that to you? How can you even think that I would — That's not fair and you know it. Our family has been picked off, one by one, starting with Dad. We have enough guilt to carry around with us. You think I don't know what you went through? I mean, Coop and Henry could only do so much. They could never replace our own father. They could never be Dad. You had to be the father. You were the one responsible for me and Mom and Lucy. After everything we went through, did you honestly think I didn't know that, that I didn't carry that around with me, too? I would _never_ guilt you."

Although both Leo and Wyatt opened their mouths to respond, it was Clyde who beat them both to the punch. "Not to trip over my own job or anything, but maybe you ladies should hold off on the wall to wall counseling until later and keep your eyes on _your_ job." The spirit guide pointed at the past Christopher, who was once again running toward his brother in almost the exact same way as he had before.

"Just to be clear," Christopher snapped. "That's not me either. You know, just in case he says something that makes anyone here feel guilty."

This time, Leo did jump in, agitated. "Christopher, this isn't helping."

"Sorry," the witch said quickly, not exactly sounding like he meant it. When he got a look from his father that said that Leo was thinking the same thing, Christopher nodded, properly admonished. "You're right. Sorry."

Wyatt ignored his father and brother, more interested in the past echo of his brother as he skidded to a stop, winded and worried. Even as his own past waved an arm at the drawbridge of the castle, Christopher didn't raise his voice at his brother. It made Wyatt a little sad, seeing that his brother hadn't even lost his temper. He missed those days, when Christopher's pacifist nature had kept him from even raising his voice. He missed a lot of things about his brother.

The past Christopher was far from angry as he tried to get his brother's attention. If anything, he was concerned as he said, "_Wyatt, stop. What's going on? What happened?_"

Young Wyatt didn't even seem to see his brother as he waved his arm in another direction, demolishing in one swoop half a forest of snow covered pine trees as if they had been bombed for weeks on end. His eyes were stone cold as he said evenly, "_You can't fool me. I already sent my brother away._"

"_What are you talking about?_"

Young Wyatt turned to who he was sure wasn't his brother, drawn to his full height. His jaw tightened, every muscle in his body tensed to portray strength beyond imagining. The witch's voice was remarkably calm as he informed his company, "_You're going to be the new message to anyone who tries to pull what you've pulled. No one will ever come at me through my family again. Never._"

The past Christopher looked on his brother with such sadness, as if he already knew what was happening to his big brother, as if it was all routine. Seeing that look, Christopher was hit with an entire wave of realizations that he couldn't believe he had never seen before. His anger at his brother forgotten, sidestepped away from Wyatt and grabbed his father by the sleeve. "Dad," asked Christopher urgently, hoping to get his question answered before the chaos would come again. "Is that who I think it is? Is there any way you can tell us apart?"

Leo looked into the eyes of the son who could not see him. The only way he had learned to remind himself that the Chris at his side wasn't the one who had died in his arms three weeks before was to look at his son's eyes. While this Christopher had seen terrible tragedy in his life, without doubt, his first son had seen so much more. The first Chris had such a haunted look in his eyes that Leo had been grateful to notice this Christopher hadn't achieved. As soon as Leo looked at the past Chris's eyes, he knew. The pieces fell into place so quickly that he actually gasped. The guardian Christopher had told them about that morning had been his son. And why not? Who would protect Wyatt better than Chris?

The past Chris didn't seem to be afraid of Wyatt. Instead, he walked right up to the man, put both hands on his shoulders, and tried to make the witch focus. "_Okay, Wyatt, look . . . I am your brother and I am on your side, I'm always on your side. There are things that you don't understand. Dad always intended to explain this to you when the time was right, but he — _"

"It is," Leo confirmed. "No doubt."

"But how?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm more curious how you didn't see it in all the years you came here."

Young Wyatt merely glanced at Chris and sent him crashing hard to the ground. The guardian took a very long time to get up as Wyatt spat at Chris, "_You leave my father out of this! Don't you even speak his name! I don't know how you did it, but I know you aren't my brother. Whatever you've done with him, I swear, I will make you pay. You will never hurt my brother again. I don't care if I have to bring the world down around me to do it, but I will keep you from him._"

Christopher tried to both listen to Chris and talk to his father at the same time, even though he was still a little shocked. How could he not have seen it? That was easy. He explained, "You always told me I looked a lot like your father. And since that was his name, I guess I figured . . ." Curiously, he looked at his father. "He always told us he _was_ your father. Do you think maybe you told him to tell us that as I started getting older?"

"Wait," Wyatt interrupted with a strange sickness in his voice. "It was a _demon_. It was a thing with Christopher's face. I thought it — Are you telling me that that guy _was_ Chris? Are you saying I — "

"What do you mean, '_was_'," Leo asked, getting a ghastly feeling in his stomach.

Knowing immediately why his brother had gone a pale shade of green, Christopher put the pieces together for his father as gently as he could. "I told you this morning, he destroyed the snow gardens and everything — and everyone — in them. By the time I saw him at the house, there was nothing left." He looked at Wyatt, other things becoming clear to himself as well. "You destroyed this place because of me?"

"_For_ you," confirmed Wyatt. "To keep you safe."

"I never knew," Christopher whispered.

Even as things continued to fall apart around them, Leo still couldn't believe that, after watching his sons interact the way that they had been, that Wyatt could kill his own brother. Of all the things that Wyatt would do, hadn't they all agreed that Christopher's death was the one line that Wyatt wouldn't cross? Leo spattered a sickly, "You killed _Chris_?"

"He didn't know," Christopher all but confirmed. In an attempt to move his father past the thoughts that were sure to start forming, he offered up a different and somewhat more important question. "But I guess my question is, if this guy here is Chris, then who was the other guy? Because I know for a fact that it wasn't me."

Looking at his brother like he was loosing his mind, Wyatt argued, "Christopher, I just saw you. We all saw you."

"Maybe not," said Leo, not entirely sure what other explanation there could be, but he knew that if Christopher was telling him that the person they had seen wasn't him, then he had no other choice but to believe him. Frustrated at his inability to help his sons as they went through these moments in their lives with any kind of guidance whatsoever, Leo finally snapped, "I don't have a goddamned clue in hell what it could have been, of course, but that's just par for the course today, isn't it?"

"Dad," Christopher said soothingly, immediately sorry for getting his father riled up. They didn't need that at the moment. None of them did. He needed all of them to be on the ball, not worrying about things that they couldn't fix in the past so that they could fix their present and future. "Don't lose it on me now, okay? I need you here."

"Damn it, what _is_ this," demanded Wyatt, finally fed up entirely with the inability of any of them to give him a straight answer. The code-speak was getting to be so ridiculous, not that there was any code. He wished that they would just come right out and say what it was that they needed to say so that they could move on. "What aren't you people telling me? Anybody?"

"We don't have time — " Christopher started, but Leo jumped in at the same time.

"He's from another timeline," Leo blurted before he could stop himself. This wasn't the way he'd wanted to do it, but he needed to get it all out before they lost track of time again. He glanced at Christopher then went on, spewing it all out as fast as he could. "That boy — man — _is_ your brother. He came back from a future even worse than the one that the two of you have been living with in order to save you from destroying the world. The day I arrived in the future to see you boys, I was there to see if he had been successful. Obviously, the job wasn't completed."

Wyatt was blown away by the revelation, even though he'd known something was going on. He didn't know how to describe it. Before he could say anything at all, things started exploding all around them. Shards of ice flew left and right like projectile missiles, blowing through anything and everything in sight. Wyatt's mind jumped ahead to what was about to happen, widening his eyes in sickness. "Oh, no."

Concerned, Christopher grabbed his brother's arm. "What's wrong?"

Wyatt didn't say anything, but gestured behind him. His past was gearing up for a big display of power as the guardian Chris struggled to get to his feet after being knocked over by an energy ball. "_Wyatt, you have to stop this before you lose control. Please. Talk to me._"

The only response the guardian received was a twist of past Wyatt's fist, closing telekinetically on his lungs. Seconds later, a plank of ice speared through the guardian's gut, dropping him to the ground and essentially nailing him to the ice below him. He sputtered to catch air once Wyatt's hand released him, watching with a mixture of fear and peace as the man came to stand over him.

"_I won't let you take me_," said the past Wyatt, his voice nearing panicked levels, it was so high and fast. There was a brief second of doubt that flitted across his features, only to see him become visibly assured that he was doing the right thing. His twisted features said it all. The snow gardens would be destroyed and the imposter of his brother would be eliminated in order to save them all. His voice suddenly calm and cool, Wyatt told the fatally wounded guardian, "_You have taken enough from me. You can't have him._"

Guardian Chris tried to turn his face from the ice so that he could look up at Wyatt, but only dropped his head back down in exhaustion. He coughed up some blood that colored his frozen lips, almost giving him the appearance of life again. Only the tears that fell down into his unruly hair gave away the remnants of the pain he was obviously in. "_I'll find a way to come back for you again, big brother, I promise_," the dying man coughed. "_I'll try as many times as it takes_."

"_And I'll find a way to stop you._"

Chris choked, "_Don't let it destroy you. Trust Christopher to — _"

Young Wyatt's hands shot out a white hot stream of lightening that Leo immediately recognized. "_Do not say his name again_."

"_I love you_," whispered Guardian Chris.

"_I hate you_," past Wyatt spat. "_You are not my brother_."

"_Love . . . love you anyway_," the guardian said as he closed his eyes then slowly faded away. In his place was the painful sound of shattering ice that, to Christopher, almost sounded like laughter as the light sharply pulled away from them again.

In an instant, they were back in the attic again with Christopher lying on the floor and Wyatt stretching to help him up. Then, without even the benefit of the darkness, the world changed around them so that by the time Christopher was standing, they were back in the cave just before they discovered their mother's lifeless body. _Twice in one day_, they all heard again as they were swooped out and so deep into the darkness that not a one of them could help but shiver in the cold. The hardness of it was relieved only long enough for three very distinct sentences to come through to their ears.

"_Take them out_," said the clouded but distinctly violent voice of Wyatt. "_Any means necessary._"

"_Your brother will come at you with everything he's got if you do this_."

"_If you aren't up to the job, I will find another demon who is._" There was a small beat, then Wyatt's voice said coldly, "_You will not get a second chance. Go._"

The demon disappeared, only to send the group back to the caves at the moment where Christopher and Wyatt discovered their mother's mutilated body. Even as they grasped where they were, they were once again plunged into darkness, only to pop back out into an overbright moment. As soon as that was gone, they were left in unsteady silence. There was an electricity in the air, drawing them all to the center of the space.

As they all settled into the new present of Wyatt's memory, Christopher took a step back. He knew immediately where and when they were, but it wasn't exactly the way that he remembered it. From around the corner, a lanky, dark haired boy maybe a year or so younger than Christopher crept his way into the caved space. His hands were out and at the ready, but they were shaking. Of course, Christopher knew that those hands had rarely been steady, but being pretty sure of what was about to come, he couldn't help but think that they were trembling much stronger than usual. Sadly, he cursed. "Oh, Sam."

Not a full second later, his beloved cousin was prone on the floor, eyes staring sightlessly up at a sky he would never see again.

While Christopher and Wyatt both turned their heads away, Leo watched as the past version of his son stepped from the shadows. The younger man's mouth moved soundlessly, but not from any apparent lack of words. Confused, Leo muttered, "I don't like this."

"What's to like," asked Christopher.

"Not that," said Leo, trying not to focus on the dead body of another relative that he hadn't yet known. "Where did the sound go?"

"There wasn't any," said Wyatt in a small, pained voice. He remembered this moment all too clearly. He had no explanation of the how or the why at the moment, but he knew that he hadn't been able to speak. If he'd been able to, all he would have done was scream and call for help. As it was, he had been helpless to do anything at all. "All I could do was watch. Except for one thing. I know for sure I heard one thing."

Right on cue, the past Wyatt grinned and said deliciously, "_You did this._"

_You. Did. This._

From the shadows, a raging younger Christopher stormed in to attack what he had thought was going to be a demon, not realizing that his efforts were already too late to save his cousin. Wyatt had won. At the time, Christopher remembered thinking that Wyatt's words had been intended for him, but now he was seriously doubting that Wyatt had said them at all.

Under the sounds of his own past screams, Christopher had to fight a horrible wave of nausea as they were all overtaken again by the blackness of Wyatt's world, or at least, that was what Christopher was assuming it was. Overwhelmed by the power of the black, he felt horrible for his brother. To live in this chaos. . . Nothing would make a whole lot of sense to him, either. That confusion would make him worry for his family, too. The more they were bounced through time and place, the more a whole lot of nothing made any sense when it came to Wyatt. The only thing that made sense now was that he needed more than ever before to save his brother from having to live in this madness.

Suddenly there was a furious thunder in the silence as if Wyatt were gathering all of his strength to be heard. The only response the silence offered was a cool laugh in Wyatt's own voice. In the black, Wyatt covered his ears, not wanting to do this anymore. All he wanted now was to find another way. This was just too much. Weakly, he called out to his brother, knowing that Christopher would shut his mind up quick and definitively. "Chris?"

Hearing the _I Can't Do This Anymore_ underneath his brother's voice, Christopher called back, resilient as expected. "Still here, Man. Gotcha covered." Silently, he added, _And argument forgotten._

That was it. Leo, too, was about ready to lose his mind as the utter coldness threatened to suck all of the hope for his son's future out of him. Still, as the image of both Chris and Lucy dying at his side crossed his mind, he forced himself to make it just a little bit further. If his kids could do it, so could he. His mind made up, it was Leo's turn to question their guide, even though he knew fully well that he could trust Clyde. Clyde was a lot of things and a crabass, but he was honest and generally reliable. If there was a reason that he was taking them on this particular journey, he would tell them if they asked. That was always the key with Clyde: the right question had to be asked. Thoughtfully he asked, "How are we skipping through time like this? We were only supposed to go to one day, the worst day in my son's life."

"Maybe we are," hinted Clyde. "That's something you need to ask Junior over there."

"Wyatt," asked Leo. "Do you understand what's going on here?"

The man shrugged. Simply, he said, "This _is_ how I remember that day. I mean, I know that it's been years, and part of the time, I can see that so clearly, but most of the time, I . . . I don't know how to explain it. I live in that day. The day Mom died is one long nightmare that didn't end for me until this morning. All these moments we've been seeing are all that I can remember clearly. I remember constantly having to battle to protect them, but beyond that, the dark is all I really know. The moment we saw Mom there, I lost everything else. I don't know how to get anywhere else. These flashes, they're the only break I have from reliving that moment otherwise. This _is_ one day."

They all heard another snippet of conversation without being able to discern what it was that the speakers were talking about. Over the voice, Leo started throwing out ideas, trying to make at least some progress so that his boys would only have to live through this day for so long. "I hate to put it this way, but is it possible that we aren't dealing with evil here at all? There isn't a family history of it, but you said you lost it all when you first saw your mother; maybe what we're dealing with here is just a plain old, non-magical psychotic break of some kind. It would explain the blackouts and lapses in memory."

"If he's lost his mind, then I'm a monkey's uncle," Clyde guffawed at the idea without offering any change in direction. "You know, it really is a miracle any of you people are still alive."

"I'm not crazy," said Wyatt defensively, choosing to ignore their host. "I would know if I lost my mind." On an odd laugh from his brother, the man realized the ridiculous conclusion that would come from his remark. Rewording himself, Wyatt explained, "Look, all this stuff that's going on, I didn't make those decisions. It always felt like I did, but I knew I didn't. In my mind, I know that I have never been capable of doing these things, but I always believed that I was doing them for the right reasons. Never, in a million years, would I have been able to look Sam in the eye and do what I did to him. I didn't do any of these things, but it felt like I did. I can remember things as they happened, like that day that you and Charlie made a full scale assault on the Underworld, but I don't remember them. They're there, as long as I don't try too hard to be sure of anything, but as soon as I get close enough to being in control of anything, it's gone and I'm back where I started, in that cave alone with you and Mom."

"Well, we can't keep going on like this," Christopher thought out loud. "Mom's death may have been the last moment of the day you remember, but it's been seven years. We can't just wait this out until you come out of it." To Clyde he said, "There has to be some way for us to get out of here. Is there any way to get us to this morning? Er, _his_ this morning? If we can get there, maybe we can see what we need."

"You couldn't see your own hand in front of your face," retorted Clyde, but he obliged Christopher with a snap of his fingers. A new door dropped down in the middle of their little band which the spirit promptly opened. As he gestured them through, he told the young witch, "It's about time you asked. You can't tell me you weren't bored. I like a little color in the lives of my clients, if you get what I mean."

As they stepped through the door and came out on the other side of it to stand on the flagstone patio of the manor, Christopher whistled, "I think you'll be getting plenty of color in a few minutes. Hold your horses." To his brother, he asked, "Does this look right to you?"

Wyatt didn't answer. He was too busy seeing his little sister smile at him as she disappeared through the doors into the conservatory. She had talked to her stomach when she'd turned her back on him. He remembered thinking that the kid had been acting up again, but now he wondered if she had been preparing him for what was to come. "_It's gonna be okay, Baby, I promise_."

The past Wyatt immediately came to the doorway, but didn't actually cross the threshold into the house. "_What's wrong?_"

"_Baby's jumpy_," she told him, sounding woozy. "_And a jumpy baby means a jumpy mommy._"

"_Come out here and sit down_," Wyatt almost commanded her. "_If you fall and crack your head open, I'm not cleaning it up_."

"_Relax. Both of you. Let me find this stuff on Grams's list and then I'll sit. I would let you do it, but Grandpa and Christopher moved a lot of stuff around in the kitchen and you'd never find anything._"

Moments later, they all heard Lucy trying to make casual conversation with her brother as if they were perfectly normal siblings without the pressure of one of them being the ruler of all evil. She sounded like she was full of sunshine as she called from the kitchen, "_So Grams wanted me to tell you that she likes your haircut. She's been wanting you to shed that rat nest for years, I guess. She says you need to work on the wardrobe now. Apparently, if you're going to be all powerful, you need to look good doing it_."

"_And I didn't look good before_," asked Wyatt, shouting through the window to be heard. "_The next time you summon her, tell Grams I said, 'Thanks a lot'."_

Absurdly, Christopher stared his brother up and down, noticing the change in his brother for the first time. Startled by the difference that he hadn't noticed, even as he was beating his brother's head in, he sputtered, "You cut your hair!?"

"As far as I can tell, you've been gone three months, little brother. A few things have changed without you."

"_Well, then you probably don't want to know what she said about your wardrobe_," the girl shouted back, sounding distracted.

Her distraction apparently hadn't gone unnoticed by Wyatt, either, because the visibly irritated witch started to make his way toward the house with a suspicious tilt of his head. "_What _are_ you doing in there?_"

Before he could get too far, she popped up right in front of him, smiley as could be. "_Done_," she cheerfully informed him, holding up several bags of herbs and powders.

Darkly, the past Wyatt told her, "_Then we can go._"

"_Not so fast, big brother,_" she sunnily said, taking his arm and guiding him toward the grime-covered table that had once been a favorite of the kids in the summertime. She brushed some of the dried leaves off a chair and directed him to sit. "_You need fresh air. So do I. We stay until I say we go._"

"_So you're the one giving orders now?_"

Lucy's face was overcome with sadness as she asked, "_Please? I'll make us some tea and we can just sit for a while. You don't have to say anything. You can sit and scowl and imagine a thousand different ways to torture me when we get back to that dank little hole you call a home. I just . . . I want to remember what it was like when we were still friends. I want my baby to know that we didn't always hate each other. Just for one morning, let's pretend that we're still a family._"

Finding himself more hurt than he knew he should be by what his kid sister was saying, Wyatt tried to distract himself by asking, "Is it just me, or are we more connected to the moment than the other stuff we've been seeing? I mean, shouldn't we have flashed by now?"

Thoughtfully, Leo suggested, "You're connected to the Nexus. Both of you kids are, and I'm guessing your sister is as well. If anything, you're strongest when you're here. I wouldn't be surprised if the same had been true about your sanctuary. Whatever has a hold on Wyatt the rest of the time, he's probably strongest here and able to be more in control."

"That's probably why he — you, it — moved out of the house," Christopher added, his thoughts forming with his father's. Knowing where this particular event they were witnessing was going to end, he mumbled in amazement, "Lucy must have figured that out, too. _Of course_ she'd want to bring you here. She'd have a better chance of having the real Wyatt on her side instead of whatever it is that's in the driver's seat most of the time."

Ruefully, Wyatt pulled at the back of his neck. "Yeah, that plan didn't exactly work out for her."

"What do you mean," asked Christopher.

Wyatt gestured toward where his former self was starting to lose his temper with his sister once again. The morning's Wyatt was surprisingly vehement as he asked his sister, "_You think we aren't a family? Do you have any idea the sacrifices I have made for this family?_"

Tears sprang into the girl's eyes, but she was visibly working to keep them from falling. Her voice was hard and sad as she said, "_I never asked you to give up your soul. All I wanted was my big brother. He was always all I ever needed._"

Wyatt watched himself studying his sister, but he didn't like the look on his own face. Where affection should have been only suspicion creased his otherwise stony features. "_You have something to say? Say it._"

Lucy looked down at her hands as they tried to soothe the twitching baby. She let the tears come this time as she informed her brother, "_After the baby is born, I'm leaving. I'm disappearing. Even you won't be able to find me._"

Wyatt was clearly not having even the suggestion. "_You're kidding, right?_"

"_Everyone I have ever loved is gone, including you. I know you have your reasons. I don't want to fight about Good and Evil and Power and all of that stuff that we've been over a million times in the last three months. That stuff really doesn't matter to me anymore. I know I can't change your mind. But you are dug in. You know, in all those years that I didn't have magic to deal with, I was free to live that normal life that Mom and the sisters always wanted. And while I was trying to be normal, I did a lot of reading. A lot. You guys used to pick on me all the time because I spent more time with books than I did with you. But in all that reading, I learned a lot. And one of the things that I learned in all that reading is that it doesn't matter how powerful you are, there will one day be someone more powerful. Power always comes down, Wyatt. Even power makes mistakes. And one day, it will be your turn. I won't be here to watch that happen. I won't stay here just to bury you with everyone else. I can't. Whatever else happens, I love you and . . . Well, I can't. Now I'm going to go make the tea. Just stay there. I need — You're upsetting Baby and I need to be alone._"

With that, their little sister walked away from the past of Wyatt without even glancing back. Christopher wanted so badly to go after her, even though he knew he couldn't. It hurt his heart to see her like that. "She didn't think she could do this. She was saying '_Goodbye_'."

"She's about to say a lot more than that," said Wyatt, pointing them all toward the doorway.

Lucy stood there in the doorway, her hands resting flat against the doorjamb, her head leaned against them. She looked so sad as she took what was probably supposed to be one last look at what had become of her life. Then, she finally let the tears out as she started chanting in a soft whisper.

When she finished, they could all feel a slight tug as the spell began to work. Past Wyatt's powers fought the spell for maybe half a second but gave in, pulling out of him and out into the open. The witch screamed with fury as he felt the transition with the rest of them. He tore himself from the chair, ready to charge at his sister to stop her. He was already too late, though, as her powers mingled in mid-air with his for a moment before her powers settled above him. He had just enough time to look furiously up at them before they dropped down into his being.

"_NO!_"

Wyatt and Christopher quickly turned their attention on their sister as she nearly collapsed under the magical weight of her brother's powers. They both glanced at his past self, who was already getting the energy back to attack her. Almost as if they were cheering on the lead in a movie, they both willed Lucy on.

"Get up, get up, get up," Wyatt said as Christopher said, "C'mon, c'mon, come on."

Before they could see what had happened next, there was a sudden surge of energy around all of them, raising the hair on the backs of their necks. Searching glances told them all that each of them was feeling it. It was hopeful and terrifying all at once. Then, just as the surge reached its peak, they were all taken over by ice. They all doubled over in pain, even Clyde. Before they had time to adjust to the cold, Leo could swear he could smell the flesh burning from everyone around him, it was so hot. Despair stabbed at him when he heard Wyatt howl in furious pain. He reached into the almost strobe-like flashes between light and darkness for his oldest, only to catch air.

And then, nothing. There was no heat, no cold, no hope, no fear. There was only the black.

"BOYS!" Leo called out immediately.

His answer came in the form of the light flashing violently back up full force, brighter than it had been since the beginning of their strange trip. Next to him, right where he'd left them, were his sons. Christopher and Wyatt were both standing there, stunned. Wyatt was the first of them to react, shaking himself back to reality. He'd lived through this already, he told himself. He needed to be more aware of what was happening, just in case his father and brother couldn't be.

Wyatt took command of the situation, directing them toward where his past self — _God, that was just this morning!_ — was sitting nearly catatonic on the ground. Loud and clear, Lucy's voice shouted at all of them.

"_You have to get up! I can't hold this thing off that long. Call Excalibur. We need it, _now" They all looked to the double doors where the girl was flicking her wrists left and right, searching for something that she obviously couldn't see. When she apparently didn't see her brother doing as she'd requested, she stormed out of the house right up to her brother, reached down, and hauled the stunned man to his feet with one hand while still attempting to freeze the thing she was looking for. The realization quickly dawned on her face that she no longer had the ability to freeze. Suddenly she looked very frightened.

"_Wyatt, I need you to get up. I have no idea how in the hell to work your powers. I don't know what to do. Get up._"

"_What — I don't understand. What happened? How are we — ?_"

"_Call Excalibur._"

"_Excalibur?_"

Even though it had been a weak, confused question on Wyatt's behalf, the sword materialized in his hand, loyal to the heir. Before the man could comprehend what it was doing there, his sister yanked it out of his hand. The sword seemed to resist her pull for a moment, but it soon found a comfort in her hands. The weapon seemed to give Lucy a confidence as well. She stood stronger, prepared for what was to come.

"_Wyatt, can you hear me?_"

"_Lucy?_"

"_Yeah, honey, it's me. Now listen, I need you to get up. You have to get up. I can't do this by myself._" When she didn't get an answer out of her big brother, she angrily kicked at his apparently useless legs. "_Get. Up._"

With one hand, she struggled to hold Excalibur out and away from her in a defensive position as she dug into her pockets with the other. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out and tried to straighten it with her thumb and index finger so that she could read whatever was on it. When it was as straight as she was going to get it, Lucy's voice rang out clearly as she recited the spell.

A shimmer of light spun around in the middle of the patio to reveal a smiling Chris. Both Leo and Christopher gaped with Lucy as she swore, "_What the hell?_"

"_What's the matter, Lu,_" Chris asked with a wolfish grin. "_You know we never do anything without each other._"

"_What are you?_" asked Lucy, completely unfooled.

"_Little girl, Wyatt is the big brother who is going to teach you a lesson you will never forget about what happens when you dare to challenge the Heir of Excalibur._"

"_My brother never referred to himself in the third person a day in his life. I never believed you were him, not for a second. You screwed up a long time ago when you forgot that he's a pacifist. Moron._" Lucy didn't hesitate to level the heavy sword against the thing with her brother's face. She obviously wasn't in any way fazed by Chris's sudden appearance in front of her. Her initial shock had passed so quickly that she looked to almost have expected the man's appearance. "_Whatever you are,_" she growled, "_I want to see your real face. I want to see the face of the monster responsible for destroying my family. Show me. SHOW ME!_"

The request was immediately denied as Chris turned toward his big brother. The leer on his face was wicked as he goaded the confused man, "_Wyatt, look at her. She's going to kill me if you don't stop her. Please don't let me die again. Wyatt, I need you._"

"_Get up, Wyatt,_" Lucy countered, her voice remarkably steady despite the panic that seemed to come over her. Excalibur shook in her hands as she called out to the terrified looking Wyatt. "_Honey, that's not Christopher. You know it isn't. You have to fight it. I can't do it for you. You have to get up and help me._"

With a wave of his hand, Chris's shirt turned a bright crimson just below the ribcage. Furiously, he barked, "_You did this, Wyatt. You did this to me. Now kill her before she kills me_."

"_Wyatt, get up!_"

"_You killed me._"

The voice was small and almost inaudible, but the past Wyatt started chanting over and over, like a child sticking his fingers in his ears and humming as loud as he could. "_Stop it, stop it, stopitstopitstopit! STOP IT!_"

When his voice exploded, so did the glass table top on the patio furniture. With the next command for the yelling to stop, the glass blew out of the windows in the French doors of the conservatory. Lucy immediately dropped Excalibur, her hands reflexively covering her burgeoning stomach. The act was all that the thing with Christopher's face needed.

"_Join me, my brothers!_" the ChrisThing called out.

None of the bystanders noticed the other Chris for the moment. The real Wyatt was backing up and away from his companions, afraid of what he was seeing. He didn't exactly remember this moment all that well. He definitely wasn't liking what he was seeing. Timidly, he asked, "Did I do that?"

"She switched your powers," said Leo. "She had your mother's freezing power, so I suppose it's entirely possible that her powers would expand in the same way that Piper's did. Considering that Lucy had such an aversion to using her powers, it wouldn't surprise me that the trigger for them is fear. Do you remember being overly afraid at that moment?"

"Oh, yeah," Wyatt drawled. He pointed at the group of six Darklighters that black orbed in just as the glass ceiling of the conservatory exploded and sent down a torrential rain of glass on them all. "I remember hearing Chris call out. I saw the company arrive. And then I saw — "

Wyatt cut himself off as the world in his memory turned to chaos. While crossbows puffed into the hands of the Darklighters, Lucy stood back up and picked up the sword. Brandishing it like she had no idea how to do it, she sidestepped closer to Wyatt as both the Darklighters and the thing that looked like Chris moved in on them. She called for her brother once again, but he was still seemingly lost. Then, before anyone else could get their shot in, the ChrisThing took his.

The sword swung in a wide arc as the thing charged her, but it was apparently too heavy for her to get it back up again. The ChrisThing dematerialized as it ran at her, turning into the black cloud that Wyatt had described over Lucy's dying moments. Just as Wyatt had told them, the cloud slammed into her, ripping through her body in ways that immediately drew comparisons in Leo's mind to things that he would rather he had forgotten sixty years ago.

Christopher hugged himself as Lucy dropped to the cold hard flagstones of the patio, helpless to do anything to cushion her fall. A stolen glance at his brother told him that Wyatt was struggling not to run to her as well. Strangely, of all the times that it could have happened to him in the last few hours, Christopher finally saw his brother. The stricken look on Wyatt's face finally convinced him that his brother had been telling the truth. He really didn't know all of this was happening. He really had been scared and he really had been doing, for his part, what he could to keep his family safe.

Suddenly, the most random and yet fitting memory came to Christopher out of nowhere. He hadn't realized it, but he had known all along that Wyatt had been on their side, no matter what. The Wyatt that they had seen over the last few years had had so many chances to kill them, but he never had. Somehow, whatever had a hold on the eldest Halliwell didn't have enough of a hold on him that he couldn't still reign himself in enough to keep from killing his brother and sister. He had said it himself to their father that day in the attic. _He won't kill her, but he will have no problem making her suffer_, he'd said. He knew. Damn it, he'd known, but he hadn't known.

She had known, though. There was something in her eyes as she looked up at the sky to catch her breath from the fall. She had known all too well that Wyatt, their Wyatt, would never have killed her. She knew he was still in there, somewhere, and still a part of them. She never would have done all of this if that had been the price she would have had to pay. She had believed.

And now Christopher did, too, without a doubt.

The past Wyatt came alive at that moment, as if seeing his sister lying there dying was what had been needed to truly pull him back from the brink. Then again, as Christopher had thought, he never would have let either of his siblings die. To see it now, helpless do to anything about it, had probably been Wyatt's breaking point. His face screwed up in fury as they all saw his eyes meet his sisters. Furiously, he screamed her name.

Quickly calling for the sword that was quite possibly the bane of his existence, the past Wyatt started toward the thing that he already knew had murdered his sister. It was only when she heard him weakly call out to him that he was able to focus on anything else.

"_Wyatt,_" Lucy gasped out to her brother. "_Leave it. We have . . . We have to go._"

"_What's going on?_" the morning's Wyatt asked urgently, still not quite sure what the circumstances were. Without even realizing that he was doing it, more glass sprinkled down on them as windows from the second story exploded outward onto the patio. "_What was that thing?_"

They all watched in silent anxiety as the echo of Wyatt quickly crawled on all fours to his sister's body, shielding her as soon as he was near while more Darklighters black orbed into their family's home and backyard. Oddly, they had both grinned wildly at each other as she'd reached a hand up to his shorn curls and pulled his head down to her lips. Even as a poisoned arrow flew in their direction, she took the time to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead and whispered, "_Welcome back._"

"_I don't understand_."

"_You have to know what to see. I need you to remember that, okay?_"

Words seemed to shoot out of the past Wyatt's mouth before his thoughts could catch up with them. His mouth raced to keep up as he fired one question after another at Lucy, looking entirely confused and lost. "W_hat? I don't understand. How did this happen? What's happening?_" Then, somewhere in the middle of his rapid fire mumbling, he must have reached some kind of grip on himself enough to realize that he really wasn't the problem at the moment. The observing Wyatt instantly remembered the feeling he'd had at the moment, the first realization of the wetness soaking his shirt. He closed his eyes in unison with his past self, terrified of everything that was about to come. Together the Wyatts groaned, "Oh, god."

"_You-ou seem to have a little revo-volt on your hands_," Lucy said through gritted teeth. "_I th-think they already know you-you aren't in ch-charge any-anymore._"

As another arrow flew overhead, Wyatt struggled to help his sister up off the flagstones. He held her close, one hand over her head to help her keep it up. He swung his arm out wide out of reflex. Observing Wyatt remembered not feeling exactly disappointed when a Darklighter merely blew up instead of all of them being flung out of the way as he'd intended. Confused why his powers were on the fritz, he panicked even more. "_We have to get out of here._"

"_Not going to . . .not arguing w-with you there._"

Lucy seemed to sink then, unable to hold her own weight any longer. Wyatt tried to hold her up, but her knees buckled so that her head was at his waist level and falling backward fast. He knelt down long enough to try to heave her back up, half dragging her further away from the house as he tried in his confusion to find a way out. Out to where, he didn't know. It was too confused for him to know for sure. He just knew they had to get out. "_I-I don't know where to go_," the past Wyatt whispered in fear as they both fell to the ground under her sinking weight.

A gentle brush of her fingertips over Wyatt's lips and he quieted long enough for her to tell him, "_Just trust me. I'll g-get us there. It's going to take a while, but you'll understand all-all of this in time. I h-have to get you to Chris. _"

"_Where is he? I — _"

"_Tell Christopher._" With that, she had started chanting the spell that had whisked them all away to safety so many times in their lives. It was obvious that she was starting to fade, even then, because her words started coming in ragged gasps. While she was chanting, Wyatt had called for Excalibur and had been fending off the arrows that were directed at the two of them since his powers seemed to be useless to him. When he hadn't heard her breathe for a moment, Wyatt had looked down and grasped her hand tightly. Their joined hands had begun to glow as he had automatically started chanting with her, not even realizing that he remembered the words.

A warm cocoon of golden orbs surrounded all of them, memory and watchers alike. They were all blinded by the glow until they suddenly fell out of them, leaving all of them in the middle of the attic at another Christopher's feet, just as Christopher now remembered them appearing to him. He saw his own reaction to them coming out, feeling more than just a little out of place. It had been one thing to watch their past, but to see this very morning was kind of weird.

Knowing what happened with all too vivid detail already locked in his mind, Christopher backed away from the others in his company. He started thinking out loud to himself, his helplessness starting to build with his words. "Useless. This was _completely_ useless. We didn't learn a damn thing. I don't have the first idea where we needed to start or what we should have done."

Leo grabbed Christopher's arm and pulled him so that his son was standing in front of him. The strength of his grip forced his boy to look at him, even though Christopher was clearly fighting it, as if he wanted to be frustrated instead of logical. "We learned plenty."

"About the future," Christopher argued. "We never should have brought you along."

"I'm talking about Wyatt. You have your proof now. We know for a fact that he wasn't and isn't evil. We know that he wasn't in control when he did those things."

"We don't know that. There could be all kinds of reasons why we kept flashing."

"Christopher . . ."

"No. I just watched my mother, two cousins, and sister die all in the span of a few hours after having to watch her die for real this morning. All I saw was one reason after another to — "

"Don't give up on me yet," said Wyatt in a small voice, breaking into the argument that neither his father or brother was winning.

"I'm not," said Christopher, even though the frustration in his voice might have betrayed something else. "I'm not, but I'm running out of ideas here. That's all. I just . . . It's not your fault. Forget about it. I'll figure it out. Just . . . Nevermind." Even though he tried to set his shoulders and look confident again, the witch still sounded more than a little dejected as he told Clyde, "I've seen enough. There's nothing we can learn here, not now."

Clyde looked at the kid hard and scoffed, "What show were you just at?"

Leo glared at Clyde, who laughed at Christopher's mini-tirade. Obviously Clyde knew something that they didn't, and, as always, he wasn't sharing. They apparently hadn't asked the right questions. To get to those questions, they were definitely going to have to figure out everything they had just seen, without the peanut gallery laughing in the corner. Calmly, Leo told them all, "Look, we just need a break. Let's get back and recharge a little. None of us have slept. Let's just clear the cobwebs and see where we are from there."

"That's really what you want," asked Clyde of Christopher.

The witch looked at where his past had collided with his brother and sister. They were lying there on the floor once again, Wyatt near tears as Lucy was slowly fading away from them. He heard himself yelling at her to stay and wanted to be sick. The only thing that was different this time was that he noticed her powers and his switching in the air once more, returning to their rightful owners. He closed his eyes with a soft groan then nodded at their guide. Without another word, Clyde clapped his hands together, dropping the door down in front of them. He swept them all through the portal with a grand gesture, leaving a stone cold Christopher losing all hope while the Warren family line ended surrounded by a mother and uncles he would never know.

**III. **

Back in the attic, Paige stopped her pacing for a moment to look at the vision-o-gram that they had all been trying very hard to ignore of a very angry, evil Wyatt standing over Chris/Phoebe's deathbed with a shudder. "Is there any way we can get rid of that thing, do you think? Or would it hurt Phoebe if we did? WickedWyatt is seriously creeping me out."

"Doubtful," sighed Piper.

"Do you really think this was the last thing Chris saw," asked Paige, walking around the WyattThing to get away from her sisters for a moment. She needed air. If that was what Chris had seen, she really, really needed air. It hurt her all over again to know that she couldn't have made those last moments any easier for him. For a split second, she wished she could still be under the influence of her spell, but knowing the damage it had caused, she stuffed the notion back down quickly where it couldn't hurt anyone. "Nevermind. I don't think I want to know."

Victor glanced at his watch for probably the tenth time in as many minutes. The waiting was starting to kill him. He kept waiting for that instant when his baby girl's chest would finally drop, letting out the stale air that was trapped in her lungs, and for her to then fade away from them. That was what they were waiting for, right? It wasn't like they were going to be able to stop this when she came back to them anyway. She was still wounded, and from the way Leo told it, only this Gideon character could heal her from that point. Of course, he'd been vanquished now for three weeks. They were kind of out of luck in that department. To be honest, he was feeling like they had been out of luck now for a long time. Maybe Penny and Patty had been right all along. This family was cursed.

"Dad, I swear to God, if you don't stop looking at your watch, I'm going to blow it up and I can't promise that your arm won't go up in flames with it. Our powers are tied to our emotions. Right now, I have the feeling that if I tried to use them, they'd be a little wacky."

Frustrated beyond all belief with his daughters' chosen life, Victor ran a hand through his hair and pulled hard when he reached the back of his head. Without really meaning to, he snapped, "Well, darling daughter, let me tell you a little bit about _my_ emotions: if the lot of you don't come up with a solution here pretty soon, I'm going to do a little exploding of my own."

Paige glanced between the two of them. "Do I have to separate the two of you, too?"

Piper dropped her head down into her hands, exhaling hard and hot. She knew, in a way, that her father was right. They couldn't just keep sitting around waiting for an answer to just appear. They needed help and they needed it fast. The waiting game was just not working anymore. It didn't help that Leo and the kids were traipsing off to the future, somewhere that was probably very hurtful and dangerous to the boys, and she had no idea what was happening to them. Still, sitting and worrying had never worked for her before. Why she was doing it now, she had no idea. She was better than this. Damn it! She cracked her neck in frustration, letting it all out with the pop. Her anger and helplessness quelled for at least a minute, Piper looked back up and at her sister. "We're good. Just give me an idea. Something. Anything. Just start talking. You're the one with the instincts around here. Start talking and maybe something will come to you."

The youngest sister rolled her eyes. "No pressure or anything."

"Would it help you if I told you that you're our best shot?"

"Funny girl," Paige griped.

"It was just an idea. Alright, start talking. There is an answer around here somewhere, right?"

"Right, but where?" Paige started to look around the contents of the attic, counting things off her list as she went. "The Book has been a bust. We've tried listening spells, spells to make things seen, reversal spells. The spell Phoebe wrote was no help. We've been through everything in the trunk, too. So that leaves potions and . . . Yeah, that doesn't work because, if she's frozen, she can't exactly swallow anything I can whip up, even if I can whip it up."

Piper offered soothingly, "Okay, so we need to look in places we don't normally look. Or maybe, the problem isn't in the solution to the problem?"

"You mean, we need to figure out what the cause of the problem itself is?" Paige quickly answered her own question before Piper could distract her train of thought. "No, we know the cause: — Phoebe's spell — but what we don't know is why."

"_Personal Gain_?"

Paige shook her head thoughtfully. "You know, I don't think that's why she's having the problem. Not really. I mean, it is, but it isn't. Maybe the problem is that she isn't letting the spell work in the way that _the spell_ intended. She's just trying to make it work for the way she'd intended."

Victor looked up at his girls and asked, "And that intention was what, exactly? No one has bothered to tell me any of what's going on."

"Yeah, sorry about that, Dad," Piper apologized. "We got a little distracted, what with my kids trying to kill each other, all of them, and my sister reenacting my son's death. I really did mean to tell you what I know, which is next to nothing, I guess. It's just been happening too fast. I'm sorry."

Going on to explain and catch both Victor and Piper up, Paige said, "When you arrived last week, she was trying to tell me what she'd done, but I was a little under the influence at the time myself. If I remember right, she told me that she was trying to protect Chris's existence from The Cleaners. She thought that the Elders might try to get them to erase Future Chris so that we wouldn't abandon our posts after what Gideon did to him."

Piper unfolded the piece of paper that the spell had been written on and studied it. After a moment, she waved Paige over to her and pointed at a specific line of the spell. More than unhappy, she glared at her unconscious sister. "Yeah, she screwed that one up."

Victor asked, "So then how do we fix it?"

"You know, the person we really need to talk to in all of this is Chris," Paige said darkly. She looked over at Phoebe, and sighed. "But he doesn't seem to be doing much talking at the moment."

"Wait a minute," Piper said thoughtfully. "What's the one thing we've been assuming here in all of this?"

"What do you mean," Victor asked.

Piper gestured down toward Phoebe. "This whole time, we've been assuming that Chris was talking through Phoebe, right? What if he isn't? What if we can talk to the actual Chris, not his memory?"

Understanding, or at least thinking she was understanding where her sister was going with this, Paige countered, "But even if that's true and he is somewhere that he can be found, we couldn't summon him. They still haven't let us see Prue. What makes you think they'll let us see Chris?"

"They won't let us talk to him, but that doesn't mean we can't get someone else to do it for us," suggested Piper. Seeing the light go on behind Paige's eyes, she smiled and ordered, "You get the candles, I'll get the matches."

A few moments later, golden orbs swirled into the room then disappeared, leaving a visibly irritated Penny Halliwell standing in the middle of the circle of candles. The ghost looked around her, assessing the situation before any of them could tell her what their version of the story was. She had found, over the years, that she was a much better judge of what was going on around her girls, even better than them. There was hardly a day that went by that she didn't wish she hadn't died on them when she had. They weren't ready to be without her guidance . . . as the unconscious Phoebe was about to prove to her.

"What did you do," the ghostly woman asked as she stepped out of the circle and became corporeal once more.

"Hi, Grams," said Paige as she glided forward for a hug and temporarily ignored her grandmother's question. "It's so good to see you."

Penny was taken aback by the strength of her granddaughter's hug. She laughed into Paige's hair in confusion. "Darling, I just saw you a week ago."

"She's a little sleep deprived," Piper informed their grandmother. "Just go with it."

"Alright. So, you called?"

Piper nodded her head over toward where Victor was placing a cooled wet towel on Phoebe's forehead. Dispensing with all niceties, the eldest sister griped, "Yeah. We need a little help here."

"So I see. As I said, what have you done?"

Together, Piper and Paige sat their grandmother down and explained all that had happened since Penny had gone back to the Ghostly Plane upon Christopher's dramatic arrival. Paige withered slightly under her grandmother's gaze as the story of her part in the week's events was told. She was a little relieved, however, to see that Penny's darkest glare was reserved for Phoebe's prone form. The only people who weren't under the ghost's scrutiny by the end of the tale were (surprisingly) the grandfather and the infant. Even little Wyatt wasn't going to escape his great-grandmother's anger at the moment. Still, she listened intently, putting what they were telling her together with what she knew from spending some time in the last week with her great-grandson on the Other Side. When the picture came together for her, she didn't like what it looked like at all.

When they were finished, Piper took her grandmother's hands in hers. Softly, she said, "Last week, I asked you to help me and you told me that there really is no way to truly help me grieve for my child. I'm doing my best, but this is a situation that only you can help me with."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I — _we_ — want you to find Chris for us. We think that maybe he's the only person who can get through to her. At the very least, he might be able to help us figure out what it is that she's doing in his head."

Penny screwed her eyes at her granddaughter. "I think what's going through his head in that moment is pretty obvious, don't you?"

"That's exactly what we want to avoid here, don't you think," retorted Paige. "If we let her finish out what's in his head, we won't be able to save her just like . . . "

"You weren't meant to save him," said Penny gently as Paige trailed off. "Without divulging my sources, I must say, I have had some very interesting conversations lately. You need to know, whatever the future holds, what happened to Chris was meant to happen. Believe me, he's made enough of a ruckus Up There since his arrival to prove that. So don't you worry yourselves with guilt for one more minute, my darlings. Paige, you, of all people, should know that everything happens for a reason. When one door closes, another opens. Chris's door was meant to close to open one for another."

"Yeah, that's great," snapped Victor from his daughter's bedside. He refused to accept that his grandson's door was meant to close, certainly not the way it had slammed shut on them all. To hear his former mother-in-law say anything else was just disturbing. And yet, that wasn't at the top of his Worry List at the moment. He was content to let that one boil over until his top priority was taken care of first. To get them all back on his track instead of theirs, he demanded, "But how does that help Phoebe? It's her problem that we're supposed to be working on here, and in case you've missed it, she isn't exactly getting any better."

"_IF_ you don't mind, leave the — "

"For God's sakes, Penny, my daughter is _dying_! Just find the kid and get him back here before she has to leave with you!"

The ghostly witch didn't argue with her former son-in-law, even though she quite obviously wanted to. She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest before standing up from the sofa. Her glare remained heatedly on Victor as she stepped toward the circle of candles. It wasn't until she addressed her girls once again that she was able to let her temper cool down. "I know where he should be. If he isn't there, your sister will know where he is. They've been bonding, to say the least. I'm not making any promises that I'll be able to get him back here, mind you."

"We know," said Piper. "Just try, Grams. I'll be grateful for whatever you can do."

"Blessed be, my darlings. I shall return."

With that, Penny crossed the rug into the circle and vanished in the same hail of orbs that had brought her there.

"What now," asked Victor.

"We keep looking," Piper sighed tiredly. "And I think maybe we should try to be as normal for the moment as we can. I . . . I think I need to spend some time with my kids right now."

Paige's Sister Radar turned on, knocking her back to her senses. In all the chaos of the last few hours, she hadn't even thought about Piper and how she must be handling everything that she had seen and heard when Wyatt had arrived. "That was quite a show the two of them put on, huh? You okay?"

"I have no idea."

"Christopher told you not to worry, though, right?"

"And?" When she got a look from her sister, Piper amended her question. "I'm the mother to a future king and tyrant. If he's capable of saying the things he said to his brother when he's on our team, I'd hate to live to see what he is going to be like when he switches sides. Then again, we know I don't live that long, so it's not like I have to worry about that part." She waited for Paige to say something, but when she didn't, Piper said sadly, "I just feel like I need to hug him right now, if that's okay."

"Take a break," agreed Paige. "I can handle things. Kiss my nephews for me."

"Dad," asked Piper.

Victor smiled at his middle daughter. "She's right. The three of you should take some time alone. Go on down to the nursery or something, somewhere quiet. We'll be fine up here."

It took a little while to get them all going, but Piper took their advises and swept her boys off and away from the chaos of the attic. While they were gone, Paige and Victor spent some quality time themselves, talking in a way that they hadn't in quite a while. Resentments aside, they had formed a decent relationship over the last few years, but they didn't really know much about each other's lives before she had been brought into the family. They talked about this and that, learning about his education days, his business, where he had been in the years since he'd left the girls. They talked about her parents, about her big lifestyle turnaround after treatment, and how eerily similar her college experience had been to his. Somehow, it was a great relief to them both to think about anything but what they were supposed to be thinking about for a few minutes.

Nearly an hour later, Piper sleepily rounded the attic door and announced, "They're both asleep."

"Why don't you get some, too," suggested Paige. "You really didn't have to come back up yet."

Piper's answer was drowned out by the sound of the mystical door slamming down into the middle of the attic floor with a whoosh of air and flash of bright light. The four men tumbled out of it, her men looking the worse for wear. Leo was obviously trying to look as stoic as possible, where Christopher and Wyatt were both looking a little bloodless in the face. She was almost afraid to ask them as they spotted her, but she asked anyway. "How did it go?"

"The same as it did before," grumbled Wyatt. "It was _real_ fun."

"I wish we had it on video," drawled Christopher. "Those were Kodak moments I want to relive over and over."

"So not so good then," Piper said. Hoping that they had still been able to salvage the day, so to speak, she asked, "But you _did_ find the answer, right? That girl did say you would find the answer there. You did find at least something, right?"

Leo quickly glanced at his younger son's face to find the answer to that question and wasn't thrilled with the answer he got. Unhappily, he told her, "I don't think so, no."

"Not what we wanted anyway, but Dad's right: I got an answer to a different question I've had for a while," said Christopher. He looked hard at Wyatt, who immediately felt his brother's gaze. The two of them studied one another, Christopher trying to see if Wyatt finally understood where he had gone. Wyatt looked like he finally believed his brother, at any rate. It was true. He really had been gone. It wasn't just confusion or selective memory or an attempt to explain away the ugliness that his life had become. He truly had been gone, or buried deep enough that he might as well have been gone anyway. "I think we both did."

"Yeah, we did," Wyatt admitted. The sadness in his brother too much for him to take at the moment, Wyatt looked around the room for any kind of distraction. Instead, all he found was the vision cardboard cutout of himself glaring down at Phoebe. He had no idea what it was he was looking at, but he definitely didn't want to be seeing it any longer. Still, he didn't take his eyes off it as he asked, "Can we please get rid of that thing?"

His mind also locked on the image of his brother angrily standing vigil over Phoebe, Christopher slowly walked away from the group and ran both hands through his hair, grasping it tight at the top and holding on in frustration. He paced around in a small circle, mumbling the problem out to himself, oblivious to everyone else. "Find the thing he missed . . . No . . . _They, _find the thing _they_ missed. Worst day, worst day . . . His life. She said _'his life_'. His . . . He . . . He who? Which he?"

As Christopher tried to work the problem out in his head, Clyde, Piper, Leo, and Wyatt remained congregated just to the side of the door portal. Not really knowing what she was supposed to do with the guy, Piper sent Clyde down to the kitchen to help himself —- politely as long as he cleaned up the mess — until they could formulate a new plan. Leo was still convinced that they were on the right track, just on the wrong 'day'. If he was right, they were going to be needing Clyde's services for a while longer. In the meantime, they were going to have to deal with a few other things.

"How's Phoebe," asked Leo once Clyde had stormed in his own happy way out of the attic.

"The same," Piper said worriedly, looking over to where Victor and Paige back to sitting with her sister now that the others had dispersed. "We're running out of ideas, but I'm hoping that Grams can work . . ."

"Grams is here," Wyatt asked. "What's she doing? Can I see her?"

Piper regarded her son oddly for a moment. There seemed to be a hopeful spark in his voice, as if he were truly hoping to see his great-grandmother. Even more odd, she noticed the look that passed between her son and his father, who raised his eyebrows at the boy. "Am I missing something?"

Wyatt turned to his father, eyes downcast. "We kind of had a fight this morning. Her criticizing my wardrobe is the least of my problems with Grams. She hasn't been too happy with me lately. Anyway, you saw . . . I let her summon Grams to help us figure out what was wrong with her baby." A memory came to him that he wasn't aware he had and he had to hide a smirk while he said, "She yelled at me for something that, well, I have no idea what happened, but she yelled at me for it. My ears are still ringing. God, that was just this morning . . ." Back to his mother, he asked distractedly, "Sorry. Why did you summon her?"

"We thought she might be able to help us out and find someone for us," Piper said distractedly. When Leo asked the question with his raised eyebrows, she confirmed, "Yeah."

His head stuck in the moments after his fight with his great-grandmother when he'd watched his kid sister die, Wyatt quietly walked off from the group, needing to find a corner to hide himself in and quite possibly never come out of. It was barely an afterthought as he turned around on his way away and told his parents, "If it's okay with you, I'm going to lay down for a while. I'm still kind of sore. I — I just need to be alone for a while."

"Sure. Take Phoebe's room. She won't mind," suggested Piper.

As her son slinked away with a nodded thanks, it was Piper's turn to silently ask the question. All Leo offered her was a soft, "We'll tell you all about it when this is over. For now, let's just leave him alone for a while. He has a lot to process."

"They both look like they've gone ten rounds. Was it at least worth it? Did you learn _something_ helpful?"

"All we really know is that he was telling the truth and lying all at the same time. Yes, it seems that he was doing everything in his power to protect his brother. For that, I'm proud of him. On the other hand, it appears he wasn't exactly doing the driving ninety-nine percent of the time, if you know what I mean. But for all intents and purposes, they were both right. Wyatt wasn't evil. Everything else about him was."

"So other than the proof that one son himself wasn't evil, we're back where we were two years ago when the other son first popped up in our attic? Yeah, there is definitely something Square One-y about this spot."

"Maybe," said Leo. He nodded his chin over toward where his younger son was still talking to himself, counting things off on his fingers and pulling on the back of his neck in concentration. "But if Christopher isn't giving up on his brother, then neither am I. How about you?"

Piper faked a smile, planted her fists on her hips and bobbed her head from side to side. "Go, Team!"

"Sarcasm, thy name is Piper." Leo pulled on Piper's hand to grab her attention, seeing a moment appear that he knew he wouldn't get back if he didn't do something about it right then and there. "Listen, it's going to be okay. We aren't going to give up. Cheer all you want, but you know we can't give up on our sons. And I won't give up on us, either. I know we have a lot to sort out in our lives and this really isn't the best time, but . . . When this is all over, I think you and I need to take the advice of our rather smart kid over there and try to fix our problems before we, one way or another, loose that opportunity."

The woman studied the look on her former husband's face, trying to see, even though she knew she couldn't, what it was that he must have seen when he was gallivanting in the future with their sons. "What you saw must have been pretty bad, huh?"

"It was."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough that I don't want to spend the next few years having to actually think about whether or not it's okay to touch you or kiss you. I don't want to wonder all the time if I'm doing too much or not enough. The place that's behind that snow globe may not exist just now, but the thought behind it does. I don't want your answer right now, but I just wanted to at least let you know that I'm thinking about it and about us."

For the first time in a long time, the smile reached Piper's eyes as she looked up at her husband. She couldn't pretend that things were any easier just yet. Leo was still an Elder, after all. That didn't mean that she had ever stopped loving him. She wasn't sure if that was going to be enough to fix their problems, but with everything going on around them, marital issues seemed a lot easier than parenting ones. At the risk of setting her heart up for failure, she said, "You're still my soul mate, Leo. You're still my friend. It's the husband part that I don't know how to get back to, but that doesn't mean I won't find my way back. If our kids can do it, though, I know we can. When this is over and we have put in place every single security mechanism and spell at our disposal in place, we'll make a getaway. We'll figure it out."

"So it's a date?"

"It's a date."

"The attic hasn't been trashed in a few hours and I think it might be good to get something going on up here. I could use the laugh, so do you want to tell your dad or should I?"

"It's probably a lot safer if I do. It doesn't matter how many grandchildren you give him, you'll never be his favorite person." Piper cringed at the idea of having to clean the place up, yet again. It was hard enough cleaning up after her kids — all of them. She needed a break more than she needed a laugh at the moment. "Some things are better left alone, don't you think?"

Leo pouted for all of a second and said, "Killjoy."

"Yeah, well, one of us has to be the grownup here, and it apparently has to be me."

"It's okay. We're all a little punchy here. Maybe it would be a good idea if we got some sleep for a while? I think Christopher is going to be at it for a few hours at least. I know we still need to solve Phoebe's problem, but you aren't going to be able to get anything done if you are falling asleep at the wheel. We still need you."

Misinterpreting the dark look on her almost husband's face when he said she was needed, Piper said suspiciously, "You know, it sucks that you and Dad get to know when I'm going to die and I don't."

Leo eyed her oddly. "What are you talking about?"

"Please, it's not like I didn't figure out where you were going even before you left. I could tell from both of the kids what they were thinking about. You're trying to sound normal, but you look about as settled as they do. So how bad was it?"

"Bad enough that we aren't going to let it even come close to happening again. But that wasn't what I was talking about anyway. I was just thinking that we are already one power down without Phoebe, conscious or not, and Paige is only a few hours away from dropping herself after the last few weeks."

Seeing the opportunity for the gallows humor that Leo was looking for, Piper smiled up at him and said melodramatically, "Oh, so you were broken up seeing me die, but not _that_ broken up. I see. Kill me once, kill me a hundred times. They're all the same."

"Well, you _have_ died more than a few times."

"Haven't we all," she muttered almost cheerfully. "Haven't we all . . . "

They were both startled when Paige asked from behind them, "Haven't we all what?"

"Died," said Piper simply.

"Ten or twelve times, at least, and I've only been doing this for three years," shrugged the youngest sister. "So which one of us are we killing this time?"

A swirl of golden orbs interrupted them, separating them before Victor could object to their line of joking from his post at the dying Phoebe's side. Before the orbs had even solidified into a person, Penny's voice called worriedly to them, "I couldn't find him anywhere. No one has seen him for hours."

"All puns and jokes aside," said Paige. "How does a ghost just disappear?"

"He was here a few hours ago to help collect the boys' — er — well, their girl from the future," said Penny quietly, looking to make sure neither Christopher or Wyatt within earshot. "When the three of them came back, he and Clarence went off to talk. Clarence came back without him and no one has seen him since."

Piper asked, "So now what?"

Penny didn't look in the least bit happy to say what she was about to say, but she offered, "I think you need to go see the other Elders, Leo."

"No."

"Leo."

"No. I mean it, Penny. No."

The family matriarch glared unpleasantly at her grandson-in-law, arms crossing over her chest with a huff. "When was the last time you were Up There?" She waited, but Leo refused to answer. Her glare grew even darker. "Have you at least talked to Them?"

When Leo still didn't answer, Piper looked at him sideways. "I thought we were waiting to hear from Them about your so-called 'punishment'."

"We are," he said evenly.

"Without having even _talked_ to Them?"

Rather than wait for the couple to work out the answers they needed in an argument, Penny jumped in. "If you _had_ talked to Them, you would know that They don't exactly have time to punish you or not at the moment. They have a much bigger problem: your son."

"What," the living three cried.

"Chris has caused quite a bit of chaos Up There, and not just by dying. He had some interesting revelations for Them that I don't think any of Them were prepared for. That's why I hadn't seen him yet when I talked to you last weekend, Piper. He had been too busy to get to see us yet. The point is, after talking to him and to the girl who joined us today, I really think you need to get Up There, Leo. Based on what she told me, you should have seen some very interesting things today. There is a deal to be made there, if you act now, a deal that may save both Phoebe and all of your kids, for good."

Leo let his guard down just a little, matching Penny's glare. "And you know what that deal should be?"

"I have an idea," she said. "It's one that I think will make all of your kids happy."

As Leo remembered sitting with Chris not too long ago while his boy asked him to consider quitting being an Elder, he smiled at her. "Let's hear it."

While the adults moved to conference over the potions table, Wyatt stalked back up the stairs, cracking all too tired bones as he got to the landing. He watched his parents, aunt, and great-grandmother hover with interest. He wanted to talk to Grams, but he didn't think this was exactly the time to do it. They looked too busy. He looked for the next best thing and quickly found his brother, still curled up in a ball in the corner, staring out into space.

Knowing the look on his kid brother's face all too well, Wyatt went over to a row of shelves, grabbed supplies, and plopped down next to Christopher almost entirely unnoticed.

"You look like you need a break," said Wyatt as he slumped down next to his brother. It wasn't until he handed a pad of paper and a pen sideways over to Christopher that the younger man even acknowledged his presence. At a questioning look, he said again, "Take a break. Or at least this. Apparently they keep things in the same drawers around here that they always have. So if the pen doesn't work, don't blame me."

"I thought you were sleeping."

"I tried. My head's too clogged."

Christopher grumbled, "Tell me about it."

"Not getting anywhere?"

"I'm running out of ideas," said Christopher tiredly. He scrubbed at his face, willing his tiredness away. "I don't know where to look next."

"You just keep thinking, Butch. It's what you're good at."

"Yeah," Christopher said gratefully, smiling at the joke that the two of them had shared since childhood. Whatever else they had been through, Wyatt still knew him better than anyone in the world. Christopher's head was always so full of thoughts that sometimes the only way around them was to write them down. Wyatt had even bought him a stack of notebooks for Christmas one year. He'd meant it as a gag, but he also knew that the gift would be put to good use. Of course, that was when Wyatt had still been home. _But he is home, now, isn't he?_ Christopher had to remind himself that those days were, if he had anything to say about it, very much over. And he would definitely have his say. He wanted his brother back more than anything and he aimed to get what he wanted this time. He'd given up too much. It was his turn. Without meaning to say it out loud, he whispered to the Good Guys, whoever they were these days, "Thanks."

Wyatt, misinterpreting his brother's overenthusiastic gratitude, patted Christopher's knee in encouragement. He didn't look at his brother, but said the one thing that he knew Christopher needed to hear at the moment. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

"Do I?"

"I hope that was a rhetorical question," warned Wyatt.

"You aren't here because of me," Christopher said pointedly. "Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled to have the real you here. But I didn't bring you here."

"Sure you did."

"Nope, that was all her."

"No, it was you," Wyatt said definitively in the voice that clearly said that he was winning this one, no matter what Christopher tried to say otherwise. "You and I both know that she never would have come up with something like this. Changing our lives from the past? That isn't . . . wasn't her style. She didn't like living anywhere but in the present. She always said her present baggage is heavy enough as it is without having to lug the past along with it."

Christopher knew that what he was about to say was going to sound like a guilt trip, but he didn't know any other way to say it. Trying to word himself as nicely as possible, he informed the older man, "You, uh . . . You haven't been around lately. She thought a lot more about the future and past than the present these days. I mean, I guess the mechanics of the plan weren't hers, but once she got to the same place I was, it was on her mind all of the time. Not that she had much choice. She was so scared of the future that — well, she was scared."

Wyatt looked away from his brother, not wanting to look him in the eye as he asked sadly, "What did I do?"

"Huh?"

"What did I do to scare her? That's the part you aren't saying, right? You've had this look all afternoon like you don't want to talk at all because every time you do, you end up having to tell me something I'm not going to want to hear. So what did I do? I must have done something that put all of this in motion."

"Not exactly," Christopher sighed. He didn't really want to get into this, but he knew he had to eventually. Wyatt needed the truth, no matter what it was going to do to him. After seeing the chaos and darkness that his brother had been living in, he needed honesty probably more than anything else. Even if it wasn't a lie, the slightest distortion of a fact would probably feel like that chaos again. Christopher just couldn't do that to his big brother. He had a feeling Wyatt would be punishing himself over the next few years more than enough for any of them. He needed at least one small break. Softly and as plainly as he could, Christopher asked Wyatt, "Did you know that you had powers before you were even born?"

"I've heard," said Wyatt, prodding his brother along with an impatient tone. He definitely didn't want to be hearing anything about his powers at the moment.

"Lucy's baby, he did."

"What kind of powers? I don't remember seeing anything."

"The obvious answer to that statement aside . . ." Christopher gave his brother a look, but didn't push it any further. Instead, he explained, "As far as we know, he just demonstrated the one power and he only did it the couple of times that she told me about. Before we even knew she was pregnant, he gave her a premonition."

The idea of his sister, who had been powerless for so long because of her little binding stunt, having a vision was probably a pretty scary thing for them when it happened. She had never been comfortable with the magic part of their lives. To have a vision pop out of nowhere would definitely give them all cause for worry. "That must have caused a real nutty in the house."

"Once we figured out the pregnancy part, her having a vision didn't worry us nearly as much as the content of it."

"Me?"

"You and me, fighting in the attic. You driving Excalibur through me. Pretty nasty stuff." Christopher studied his hands, unable to really look at his brother. He didn't want to see the look that must have been on Wyatt's face. He knew that Wyatt had to be imagining the mental image of what he'd just said. It was one that he knew neither one of them could really ever forget. But looking at his hands helped. At least his hands had the power to do _something_ that the honesty couldn't do. He tried to sound at least half the way to cheerful and gave his brother a playful sideways slap on the chest. "But hey, it didn't happen, right? We stopped it from happening. That has to count for something."

Wyatt sucked in a breath then let it out in one low, long whistle. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"No. I'd lie to you, but I make it a point not to lie to anyone if I don't have to these days. I've had enough lies to last a lifetime."

The elder of the brothers kept the guilty cringe inside and instead chuckled with a sideways glance at their parents. "Then how have you managed to talk to them at all? Lies are kind of necessary here, don't you think?"

"They probably would have been if they didn't already know who I was. I omit as much as I can to protect them, but I really try not to lie to them if I can help it. Mom said the other me lied to them all the time. I guess he was here for over a year before they even knew he was their kid. They knew a lot more than I would have expected. With everything Dad saw when he came to get me — "

Wyatt's voice was a little cloudy as he tried too hard to remember and failed. "Dad came to get you?"

"Yeah, see, I kind of figured it was a little fuzzy since you had no idea why Grams was yelling at you this morning, but you remembered one of your guys shooting Lulu with the Darklighter arrow the day I left. Look, it's okay. I figure that you being a little scattered in the memory department is going to be pretty normal for us for a while. What happened that day is a really long story, and I'll tell you all about it later, but I think — "

"Why not now?"

"Because I'm trying too hard to figure out how to save your pathetic ass at the moment." He tried to smile, but he knew Wyatt knew he wasn't in the least bit serious. As his brother set his eyes on him and refused to look away, Christopher caved, but not as much as Wyatt probably would have liked. "Haven't you had enough for one day?"

Wyatt said, "I can't help you if I can't remember anything. And yeah, hearing it second-hand probably isn't going to trigger any real memories for me, but I have to do _some_thing. This is my life we're talking about. For lack of a better way to put it, you did your job, little brother; now you need to let me do mine. You were right. It's time."

"You want to know how you can help me? Don't leave me again and we'll be just fine."

"Christopher."

"I'm done talking about this. If you really can't wait to find out what happened, ask Dad." Seeing a look on Wyatt's face, he added, "I'm sorry. I'm just a little frustrated."

"With me?"

"With the absolute lack of answers I'm getting." Christopher looked at the pad of paper on his knee and the scrawling doodles he'd made while they had been talking. He wasn't sure what it was about his drawing, but a word kept coming into his head. As non-accusatory as he could, he asked, "Can I ask you something? Why didn't you ever tell me about the Elders? I mean, I understand why you didn't tell me about the attack that killed Mom. You were gone before you got the chance. I get that. But before? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you. You worry so much about everything, at least, you always did. I don't know about now. Anyway, once Dad was gone, it was my job to take care of you and Lucy and Mom. You already worry too much for the both of us. I wasn't going to make that any worse. I didn't know what They were going to do or when. All I knew for sure was that I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"And the thing about me having powers? You know I don't, right? Charlie would have told me if I had had enough powers that I could have brought you back"

Ignoring his brother's assumption for the moment, thoughtfully, Wyatt said, "Not if he thought he could lose you to whatever it was you lost me to. Not if he thought that using your powers would in any way compromise you. And not if he thought that they wouldn't have been of any use to you in getting me back."

They were both quiet for a moment, then Christopher asked, "It's okay if you don't remember, but . . . Do you know if he's okay? When I went through the portal — "

"I wish I knew," said Wyatt miserably. "I wish to God I knew."

"It's okay. I mean, I know it isn't _okay_, but I understand why you don't know. I'll . . . Well, we'll fix this and that won't have happened so it won't be anything to worry about anyway, right?" Christopher smiled what was obviously a fake smile, but it seemed to be enough to get him back on track. Business-like once again, he said, "But anyway, getting back to my question. I was sort of wondering — These powers that the two of you didn't want me to know about? What were they?"

"I know some," admitted Wyatt. "But not all. Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Was I supposed to be an empath like Phoebe?"

"I don't know. The stuff that I got the feeling They were afraid of was a lot of offensive powers. Let's just say that I think you probably could take out half the Elders just by looking at Them, if you wanted to. The day Mom . . . The thing you did to the guys that attacked you in the attic? I think that was just the start of that power developing. I'm guessing that with everything that happened afterward, you probably didn't do much with it?"

"Not really, no."

"So why do you ask?"

Christopher continued to scribble away on the pad as he talked, his mind trying to work on all of their problems at once. "The thing is, something occurred to me when we were seeing you at the snow gardens. When the other me died, he said he would find a way to come back and save you. I know it's a stretch, but I guess I'm wondering now if maybe he did get some of the powers we were supposed to have before he came here."

"How do you mean?"

"Lucy's vision — what if _he_ was the baby? What if he was that soul? Think about it: the Elders recycle souls all the time. If he was with her, if he was the one helping her to save you . . . You and I have both said it, what happened today wasn't exactly her style. But I'm willing to bet that it was his because it is pretty close to what I would have done if I was finally backed into a corner about you. What if — what if that was their destiny all along? If they were able to save you and then get you here . . . If she hadn't brought you here . . . By the time this is over, we'll have saved you for real. It will have taken three generations, for lack of a better word, to do it, but we'll have saved you from becoming the threat that everyone was afraid of. _He'll_ have done it."

"But how do you get that he was the baby?"

"The vision, what if it wasn't a vision? What if it was a memory? Dad has said that the Chris who came before me had it much worse than we did. What if what Lucy saw really did happen to him? If he was an empath — or maybe she was supposed to develop that power eventually — or maybe . . . I don't know. Maybe it was just a mother-baby thing, but I'm wondering if he might have been able to tap into that to give her his memories since they were already sharing a body, sort of. I mean, we saw what happened between the two of them; the Wyatt we saw looked perfectly willing to kill his own brother. She didn't see the end of the vision. What if — I just, I really am wondering if that's — You could have healed him afterwards. If you were that desperate to get him on your side, I don't know. It could have . . ."

"It _is_ a stretch, but keep working on it. Maybe we'll find something in there we can use to our advantage." Wyatt tapped the notepad on Christopher's knee and scribbled in the air. "Write it all down. You're bound to find the patterns somewhere, right?"

He'd talked himself into so many different circles that Christopher couldn't muster the same confidence into his voice that Wyatt seemed to have. All he could offer was a confused, preoccupied, "Sure."

"If it counts for anything, I do like that idea. If our nephew in some way shared a soul with this other you, he accomplished his mission. He saved me. Maybe now, after everything, his soul will be able to rest in peace."

"I like that idea, too."

"I think I'm going to go talk to Mom," Wyatt said as he hauled himself back up off the floor. He had a haunted look on his face, one that both he and Christopher knew would be there for a long time to come. His eyes met his brother's and he knew Christopher was thinking about the same mental image. "Dad, too. I just kind of feel like I should say a few things to them or even just stand in very close proximity, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Yeah. I'll, umm, I'll give you your space back."

"Yeah," Christopher muttered as Wyatt started to walk away. Unable to let the moment go without saying what he needed to, he called his brother back for a moment. He didn't care if it made him weak or sentimental or anything. If there was anything that his life had taught him, it was that when these moments passed, they didn't come back. He'd let too many people in his life leave him without him saying things he should have said. He had too many regrets. Far too many. If this moment with his brother was only a temporary fix, he definitely needed to get this out now. He called his brother's attention back to him softly, pleadingly. "Wyatt?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you. Every day."

Not sure what to say but definitely unable to go to someplace that he wasn't ready to accept that he could go to, Wyatt instead joked in response, "Just remember you said that next week when you can't wait to get rid of me again."

They smiled at each other, but as Wyatt walked away, Christopher silently added, _Never gonna happen. _He let his mind and eye wander, trying to get himself back on track to figure their problem out when he settled on the small versions of himself and Wyatt. He watched while the toddler played quietly with a Leap Pad book, counting just a little too loud for the sleeping baby a foot away. This time, Christopher had much more positive thoughts about the two of them. Instead of worry for their future, he could see one. They were going to make it. He would make sure that they would. His baby self wasn't even a month old yet, but already they had seen too much. He'd find a way to take at least this problem away from —

"Wyatt!" Christopher said in surprise, as if he couldn't believe he hadn't seen things so clearly before. "_His life_! God, I'm so blind! I mean, she probably could have been a little more cryptic — brat —- but she handed me the damned answer on a silver platter. How could I not see that?"

Everyone jumped at the sound of Christopher's exclamation, particularly the two Wyatts. The elder of the two looked at their brother like he'd gone completely mental. "Translation, please?"

"We went to the wrong day. It was right in front of me all along." Christopher looked positively pleased with himself when he explained, "She didn't mean You-him; she meant Him-him! Little Wyatt!"

Piper stole a glance at the smallest version of her son before looking back at the larger versions of her kids. "You think he knows what turned him . . . you?"

"God, I hope not," Christopher winced. The kid may have been trying to get rid of him all week, but that didn't mean that he didn't still find something . . . albeit something _small_ . . . endearing about him. And he was still his brother, no matter how he would one day turn out. "No, I mean that this thing that was missed, what if she meant that it happened on the worst day of _his_ life?" He turned to his big brother so that it would be clear to them all which one he was talking to and about. "We've been assuming that the worst day of his life would be the same as the worst day of your life, but you've had worse days since this point in time. Even though he's you, you've had to see so much more than he has. Up until this point, he's only seen so much, even if it is a lot. The thing is, we've always made the assumption that whatever happened to you — " Christopher watched his brother roll his eyes, still unable to get used to the idea that something had actually happened to him, even though he was fully aware that something most definitely had. Seeing that, Christopher emphasized, " — _and made you You_, happened before I was born. It has always been assumed that something happened to you that at least started the process to turn you."

"We stopped that," Leo said defensively, without being specific about how and that it was a lot more _I_ than _we_. He thought he knew what his son was thinking, but shook his head, uncomfortable with the idea that he still hadn't stopped the sonofabitch who had blown up their lives for so long without them even knowing it. "Gideon — "

" — had him for almost twelve hours, Dad," Christopher countered. "We don't know what happened to him in that time."

His voice struggling to find blankness, Leo asked, "You're saying we have to go back and relive _that_ day?"

"Yeah, I think we do," Christopher said sympathetically. He saw all of the color drain from his father's handsome features and felt his stomach turn. How could he ask his father to do that? Over the last week, he had seen everyone but his mother fall apart because of what had happened on the day he was born. None of them were in any kind of shape to have to relive that, even if they had been doing it every day anyway. He knew he couldn't ask Paige to go with them, not after the madness it had caused in her before. And Phoebe was definitely out. His father had come to the future and started this whole thing because of it. It was too much to ask. He knew that. He knew first hand what reliving these moments felt like. It was just too much. His mind made up, Christopher gave his father a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Dad. We can do it ourselves. You don't have to come with."

Leo's shoulders seemed to sink with relief at the idea that he wouldn't have to go, at least for a split second. But then he looked at the less-than-confident eyes of his youngest and knew that, as good as Christopher's intentions were, they were not to be. He braced himself for what would be coming for him, straightening his shoulders and putting his own fear aside. He needed to do this, for _all_ of his boys. "That's a great offer, Christopher," he said. "But you're going to need me on this trip. You won't know what to look for."

"Dad . . . "

"It really is okay. Let's just get it done before I change my mind."

Wyatt watched his father and brother intently, seeing a strange interaction that he didn't quite understand. He'd been seeing it ever since he'd arrived. He knew that Christopher — well, a different Chris — had been to the past to try to change things before. They'd told him that, but he could tell, there was a great big gaping hole of omission in their glances. He couldn't help but let himself wonder just exactly that was. The sooner they got going, the sooner he would know. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and volunteered, "I'll go grab Clyde."

Once Wyatt was gone, Piper asked, "Are you sure he should see that? I thought you were trying to keep him out of the loop about that day."

"He already knows Chris was here," said Christopher. He gave his father a meaningful glance then said to his mother, "I don't think there's anything that happened that day that he can't handle, not after some of the other stuff we saw today. If he doesn't remember Chris now, I don't think it's going to make any difference. But if you think you can talk him out of it — "

"Just be careful," Piper interrupted him with a smile. "And get it done this time."

They all heard Clyde grumbling from all the way down in the kitchen, but it sounded like Wyatt was matching the spirit insult for insult as they trudged back up the staircase. Just in case, Leo made one more attempt to heal his sister-in-law before their guide could get the rest of the way up the stairs. They all knew it wouldn't work, but there wasn't anyone there who wasn't grateful for the attempt. Leo and Christopher even tried to do it together, just in case, but nothing happened. Christopher was about to ask why when Clyde arrived. Leo simply told him that he'd find out soon enough then left Phoebe to say his goodbyes again. Christopher hung back for a moment, talking to his grandfather until he and Wyatt would be called to leave once again.

Across the room, Piper looked up at Leo, a little unsure. She whispered a heartfelt "Good luck" to him. To be his wife at the moment felt so natural, but they just weren't there yet. Of course, if she just let it happen, maybe they would be. She tentatively curled her fingers into his then pulled down gently so that his upper body would have to drop down to her level. She carefully placed a light kiss on his lips, nothing and everything special. When she pulled back, she had to blink to keep the frightened tears from becoming obvious. To cover, she swallowed hard and looked at her adult boys. "I mean it: you be careful."

"It's going to be okay, Mom," said Christopher reassuringly, striding confidently to Clyde's mystical door.

"That doesn't mean you don't still have to be careful."

"We will."

Clyde reached for the knob of his door, but Christopher quickly covered the spirit's hand to keep him from actually pulling it open. He looked up at his father with a business-like hardness. "Last chance to back out."

"You two had to live through some of the most awful moments of your lives and you're still standing," Leo said almost nonchalantly, even though his eyes betrayed a deeper dread. "If you can do it, so can I. Let's go."

"If the pep talk is over, Ladies . . . " said Clyde impatiently, opening the door by force and sweeping his arm out. "Let's get a move on. Put your seats and trays in the upright and locked positions."

Annoyed with their guide's wisecracks, Wyatt glared at the spirit and barked protectively, "Stuff it, Clyde."

Clyde broke out into a huge smile and laughed. "Kid, I like your style."

Wyatt rolled his eyes as he stepped through the door, not knowing where his father and brother had planned them to land. Wherever it was, their speaking in code was getting a little ridiculous. He was definitely ready to find out what all the dropped sentences and sympathetic glances were all about.

**IV.**

"This seems like the best place to start," said Leo as he took in the state of the hall they had been deposited into. "We're a little early, I think, but all we have to do is wait for them to show up and we can follow the day from here."

"What is this place," Christopher asked, his eyes huge. He had no memory of the place at all, but his father seemed to know exactly where it was that they were going.

"Magic school," both Wyatt and Leo answered. Leo looked at both of his adult boys, a little surprised, and asked Christopher, "You don't know it?"

Christopher shook his head. "I've never seen this place in my whole life. We — you always had such a mistrust of the magical world that you tried to keep us away from it, at least, this part of it. We fought demons and warlocks as always, but we never had any help from Up There like they had before. You didn't want anything to do with the Elders and the school was run by Elders, so you and Mom decided that we wouldn't go there. We learned everything the way the sisters did, by figuring it all out on our own. I didn't even know a school existed until a few years ago when Mom and Paige were trying to help an innocent who was a student there. They wouldn't tell us anything other than that they didn't want us there." Slightly confused, Christopher turned on his brother. "How did you know this was it?"

"I just do."

"Wyatt?"

"I just do, Christopher. Leave it alone." Wyatt pointed down the hall toward a set of large, double doors with heavy iron handles. With a hint of sadness in his voice, he said, "We're going in there."

"How do you know that," Christopher asked his big brother again, not liking the look on Wyatt's face.

Wyatt didn't answer, but he didn't have to. As they were standing there, a very pregnant Piper came trudging down the hallway, the toddler Wyatt slumping in the soft seat of the stroller she was pushing. She didn't even notice them as she strolled in between them, separating the brothers from their father for just a moment. They all watched mother and son move by, each of them thinking something completely different from the others. Christopher had no reason to be concerned, so his attention remained pretty much focused on his brother, wondering why Wyatt was being so secretive (not that Christopher wasn't used to that). Wyatt watched his mother stop at the door and straighten herself up, smoothing the lines of her top over her hips as much as she could and tucking a strand of hair into place. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew she wanted to look her best. Oddly, he wondered if his past father and brother had been doing the same thing on the other side of the door for her.

Leo seemed to catch on to what Wyatt had been saying and didn't want them going through those doors until he knew for sure what his boy was going to be thinking once they went in. Softly he asked, "You remember, don't you? You remember being here."

"Bits and pieces," Wyatt confirmed, his voice regaining a little more control than it had had a moment ago. There was no way he was going to cry over something that had happened to him a quarter of a century ago. He was stronger than that, damn it. "There's a big library or something through there, right? I remember there being a lot of books and a big table."

"I'm not surprised you remember," said Leo. "You spent a lot of time here, you and your mother. The last three months of her pregnancy, actually. I came back down here because a spider demon had attacked your mother. We wanted to keep the both of you safe until the baby was born, so we brought you here." Leo pointed down the hallway toward a convergence with another hall. "The two of you had a room down there. The nursery is around the corner. You spent a lot of time there, too, with a couple of other kids. You seemed to have a lot of fun there."

"Probably," Wyatt shrugged. "I don't really remember all that much — just the way the hallways looked and a few bodies, but not their faces. Except one. There was a nice teacher with frizzy hair. She always gave me jellybeans and made me promise not to tell Mom."

"Aww, in'n't 'at sweet," cooed Clyde, reminding them all of his presence. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them together grubbily. "But we have a show to get on the road here, folks, an' it ain't on this side of the door." He threw his hands behind his back and floated them forward, back and forth, ushering the family along. "Get a move on, people. Let's go."

Christopher wrinkled his nose at the spirit. "Are you always this annoying?"

Clyde grabbed hold of Christopher's shoulder and shoved him forward, almost making him lose balance. "Get goin', Kid. I ain't got all day an' neither do you."

Leo warned their escort, "Not funny, Clyde." Then, to his sons, he added, "But he's right. We need to get in there. If we're when I think we are, Chris and I are going to be leaving soon."

"Seriously, you guys are going to have to start explaining some of this real soon, because the cryptic act got old hours ago," Wyatt grumbled, feeling once again that everyone else but him was in on something that was central to all of this. He hated how they were all trying to say something without saying it, especially in front of him. It was all about Dad and Chris and Paige and — Wait. Dad and Chris? "What do you mean, you're going to be leaving soon?"

With an over the top wave of his hand, Clyde directed the family toward the two great doors which Piper and Little Wyatt had just passed through. With a good swift kick planted on Wyatt's butt, Clyde growled, "Git yer ass in there and find out."

The laugh that Christopher struggled to hold in came out in a low whistle as he quickly darted through the doors away from Wyatt. "Wow. This place is . . . Wow."

"I remember it being a lot bigger," Wyatt said softly, looking up at the endless ceiling.

Trying to keep the boys on track, Leo gestured toward where he knew the family would be gathered for their goodbyes. "We're that way."

As the quartet made their way toward the family from the past, Wyatt started to feel a little uneasy, a feeling he was more than familiar with. He didn't know what exactly it was that he was going to see when they got to where they were going, but something in him really didn't want to see it. It felt . . . It hurt. He couldn't explain it, but something in him hurt. He actually had to stop walking, frozen in his dread of going any further. When Leo turned around to look at him, Wyatt told his father, "I can't."

"You remember something?"

"Not really, but yeah, it's just a feeling. I . . . Something is going to happen in a few minutes, something I really didn't want to happen. It's going to be my fault."

Surprised at his son's reaction, Leo said gently, "It wasn't your fault. Gideon did this, not you."

"I don't think that's it," Wyatt said slowly, the fear in his face relaxing a little. "No, it's something else, something that . . . I just really did not want it to happen."

Again, Clyde utzed them all along with a wave of his arms. "Well, it's all happening in there, so get a move on."

Reluctantly, Wyatt followed the rest of them into the room that wasn't the one he remembered. "I thought this was the library."

"That door on the other end of the room leads you into it. This is more of a study hall," explained Leo. Over his head, his own voice echoed on the walls, explaining that he was going with Chris, "_Just long enough to make sure he gets to where he needs to be._"

The very pregnant Piper did not look even remotely thrilled with that plan. "_And when exactly were you going to tell me about this?_"

"_I told him he didn't have to come. I don't need him_," protested the past Chris.

Christopher glanced at both is father and brother and saw that they were both starting to look a little too tense this early in their day. To try to get his father to relax, he elbowed the angel and asked, "Didn't we just have that conversation?"

Right on cue, Leo's answer came in the same parenting voice that he'd handed his boy when they'd been in the future attic. Leo tried to hide a smile at his past teasing his son. "_No, it's too dangerous. Remember the last time you went through a portal? You were almost dinosaur kibble._"

Both Chrises scoffed at their father's reaction, but didn't say anything else. Wyatt, ever the impatient of the brothers, couldn't wait to ask, "Please tell me something is going to happen soon."

As if on cue, the past echo of Gideon swooped into the room, telling them that he had made changes to the spell that was supposed to have been able to send Chris home. Christopher immediately recognized the man from the dreams he'd had all week. He clenched his teeth hard, feeling an odd sense of over-protectiveness toward this other version of himself and toward the toddler in the stroller at his feet. He felt a radiant heat from his father as well and said, "That's him, isn't it? That's the guy."

Leo didn't say anything, but his jaw was suddenly just as tight as his younger son's.

"I think I remember that guy," said Wyatt warily. He didn't like the reaction the man's appearance was drawing from his father and brother. He was almost afraid to ask, "Who is he?"

Clyde actually noticed the reaction from his charges and was surprised. He looked at Leo, who didn't seem to see him. "That's Gideon, the Elder," he answered the kid. Then he asked Leo, "What's going on here?"

"Nothing good," said Christopher as his aunts orbed into the room and his other self asked where they'd been.

As Paige and Phoebe explained their run-in with Darryl and Sheridan, Wyatt watched himself watching what was going on around them. He didn't like the look on his little self's face. Softly, he said, "Something's wrong."

"No, we're where we're supposed to be," argued Leo.

"I don't mean like that," explained Wyatt. "Look at Little Me. He knows something is wrong. I. . . I remember something about this. Something isn't right. He — I — know something is off." He looked oddly at his brother, as if he remembered something else. "I didn't want you to go. I didn't think you would be okay. Why would I think that?"

Leo kept his eyes on Gideon, damned near seeing red, even while he asked, "How do you know that's what you were feeling? Are you remembering something?"

"I don't know. It's just something about the way I'm looking at Chris and at Gideon. I don't know what it is. It's like . . . I don't know . . . I think I know Chris isn't supposed to go yet, so we shouldn't be letting him go." Wyatt finally just shrugged, completely unsure if he was putting things into the right words. He didn't know how he knew. It was more than a feeling, but he couldn't put it together. He listened to what was going on for a moment, hoping that he could get a better lock on it, but only ended up confused. "Why would there be a warrant out for his arrest?"

"Long, long story, unrelated," said Christopher. "I met the guy that they're talking about. He isn't worth mentioning. Forget about it."

They both laughed as Paige practically lunged forward to give her nephew a hug that Chris didn't exactly protest. Neither one of them said anything, though, as Piper hugged Chris. In a way, they were both a little jealous. Until now, that had been an opportunity that neither of them had ever had with their mother.

Almost forgetting that he had spent time with her in the last few hours, Wyatt said sadly, "She looks so happy. I forgot she could smile like that."

"Yeah," said Christopher softly.

Unaware of his present sons at the moment, Leo swore under his breath as his son thanked Gideon for his help. "Sonofabitch."

Immediately, Wyatt asked, "Dad?"

Leo didn't have time to answer as the portal opened and his past self stepped through it with his son. They all winced at the brightness of the portal, but not enough that they couldn't still see what was going on. Christopher asked, "You guys were in a parallel world after this, right?"

Wyatt was too busy focusing on the absolute hilarity of the pair in front of him that had come out of the portal. He would do just about anything for a laugh at this point after the day he was having. "Christopher, you have a mullet!"

Rather than bother to explain what their father had already told him about a week ago, Christopher just whapped his brother hard on the chest with the back of his hand. He turned to his father, trying to keep them all focused on getting this over with. He didn't want his father to go through this any longer than he had to. He'd seen what this day had done to Leo without him having to relive it. "Dad, this is your day as much as it is his. This is great and all, but is there anything we can skip through so that we can maybe not have to — "

"Your mother won't talk about that day. I know she told your grandfather and great-grandmother the barest details, but she hasn't talked _about_ it. She hasn't told me any of the details of that day. I don't know how he got from one place to another. I wouldn't know where to begin."

Christopher clapped his father on the shoulder, reassuring as he could be. He tried to sound almost excited, like they were just going off on a road trip as he told his father, "Then we follow."

Four hours later, they had been sitting in a bedroom with Piper for far too long for the nervous Father-To-Be, Baby-To-Be-Born, and Big-Brother-To-Be to handle anymore. Leo was pacing back and forth. His sons were having to remind him every few minutes that their mother was going to be fine and that the baby was born safely. They had to remind him that yelling at Mrs. Winterbourne wasn't going to do him much good. Telling Piper to breathe wasn't going to help much, either.

"What can I say," shrugged Leo. "I missed this part."

"What were you doing, anyway," asked Wyatt casually. "I mean, your doubles weren't exactly having a good time upstairs in the crystal cage."

"We were doing what we had to do to get home," Leo said vaguely. Back to business, he announced, "Someone's coming."

Uninvited (as far as Leo and Christopher were concerned), Gideon swept into the room, feigning concern. "_What happened_," the past Elder asked.

Mrs. Winterbourne looked so sweet to Leo, so unaware of what was happening not only to Piper, but to her as well. The witch had called the house so many times to apologize for letting Gideon get near Wyatt that she was probably hoarse. She had been so kindly and genuinely concerned for Piper and Little Chris's safety when she told her boss, "_Her waters broke. She needs to get to a hospital_."

Visibly too afraid of what was happening all three of her sons, Piper had ignored the woman at her side and asked, "_Did you find them?_"

Leo heard a manipulation in his former mentor's voice as he spoke to his wife that he had never heard before, not in all of his years under Gideon's care. It made him sick to hear the Elder say, "_No, not yet, but you cant' wait any longer. It's not safe. Go, hurry._"

"_Somebody has to stay with Wyatt_," Piper had protested.

In that same voice, Gideon had told her, "_Don't worry. I'll take care of him._"

The smile on the Elder's face sent chills down the adult Wyatt's spine. He knew only the remotest details of what had happened to him the day his brother was born, but there hadn't really been a face to put to the event. Not really. Angrily, he said without realizing, "Yeah, I bet you will."

Helpless to do anything else, they all watched the bustle of getting Piper out of the magic school and back into the mortal world. Mrs. Winterbourne was more than kind as she helped Piper up out of bed, taking small steps as the laboring woman tried to walk through the contractions. They saw Piper struggle to find a comfortable position, whether standing or sitting, crying out in pain as the contractions grew much more painful than they probably should have been. When she described it as the feeling of having a butcher's knife stuck in her spine while someone twisted it, both of her adult sons cringed.

Although several immature comments lighted on their wincing faces, they were quickly quashed by Gideon as he shut the door on the leaving women. Apparently as soon as he heard the women's footsteps disappear down the hall, the soon-to-be former Elder felt behind him for the mechanism to lock the door behind them. He started to pace slowly, never coming within five feet or so of the playpen where Little Wyatt was watching him back.

The father started to match Gideon's pacing step for step, as if he could keep the fallen angel from crossing the room if he just tried hard enough. Almost forgetting where he was, he swore at Gideon, "I trusted you. Eighty damn years, I trusted you!"

"Dad, don't," said Christopher softly.

As the past Gideon slowly walked right through Leo, the father's head hung low. Neither son heard exactly what he said, but Clyde was pretty sure the man said, "This was a bad idea."

Both Wyatt and Christopher watched Little Wyatt intently while Gideon hovered over him. The toddler showed no fear, even under threat. He simply raised his shield and stared at the man he had trusted to take care of his mommy and baby.

"_That won't protect you for long, my boy,_" Gideon said to a glare from the real Wyatt. "_Not for long_."

Blue retorts from both Wyatt and Leo were drowned out by the jingling sound of them all being surrounded by Gideon's pinkish orbs. The swearing rarely stopped over the next few hours as one thing or another happened, blades cursed and turned on little boys who had done nothing to deserve it and gun shots striking witches who forgot to move their cars. It wasn't until Phoebe and Paige left to check on Piper at the hospital that any of the travelers relaxed enough to just watch what was going on instead of pace or curse at things that they were all helpless to do anything about.

Oddly, it was something small that made them relax as Wyatt said softly, "I remember this."

Leo watched his sisters-in-law hurry out the door distractedly, barely hearing his son. "Hmm?"

"Chris, he . . . I really liked him," said Wyatt almost fondly, even as he struggled to find another memory in his own mind. "I didn't want him to go."

Almost to answer the Wyatt that obviously wasn't there, Chris hoisted the toddler Wyatt onto his hip, a goofy grin on his face. "_Looks like you aren't getting rid of me just yet, huh?_"

The small child's only response was to press his tiny index finger to his younger brother's nose. He made a small exploding sound, not unlike the one that Chris had made to him back in the magic school's hall just as he was leaving. The noise made Chris chuckle.

"_Yeah._" With that, they orbed up to the attic together.

Once again the observers were left with nothing much to do but wait. Leo started pacing, waiting for the moment to arrive when he knew it would all be over for them. After a while, the pacing was starting to bug even Clyde to the point that their guide was going to give the angel a good swift kick, but Wyatt came in between them as Christopher pulled his father aside.

"You're the one who wanted to come," said Christopher. "You need to keep it together, Dad. This isn't helping anyone. You can't help him, but you can help Wyatt. Please."

Leo backed off, hands in his pockets, into the far corner of the attic so that he could still fester without driving them all crazy. That was the best that they were going to get out of him at the moment. Luckily for them all, things were about to pick up.

The past Chris came over to sit on the arm of the sofa so that he could look down on Little Wyatt, turning his head this way and that, making his neck crack. "_Okay, I need a break and you sound like you could use a little attention. So here's the deal: I wanted to talk to you about something before Dad gets back and we have to take you to the hospital to see Mom. I know everything is a little crazy today, and that was a really close call with Gideon. I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried when we found the other you screaming like that. You never really like it when I worry about you. You always tell me that I worry too much. But between you and me, I'll never stop worrying about you. You're my big brother. Somebody has to take care of you. You'd get into too much trouble without me. So I know it's kind of silly to tell you this since you aren't going to really understand what it means, but I'm going to tell you anyway. Maybe some day you'll at least remember my voice or my knees or something. Sometimes that's enough to make you remember something from when you were really small. At least, it does for me. Anyway, I don't know how much time we have left. I didn't say 'Goodbye' before, but I think maybe this is my chance to."_

In his corner, Leo looked positively sick as he watched Chris kneel down next to Wyatt. Still, he couldn't make himself look away.

_"I know there really isn't all that much to know at your age, but I'm still glad I got to know you like this. Don't get me wrong; you're still a pain in the ass, but you're my brother. You and I haven't just sat down to talk in a really, really long time now. Until I came here, I didn't think I knew you anymore. I'd forgotten what it was like to actually have a brother. It was more just something I said but didn't really mean. I don't ever want us to be like that again, okay? I want to call you my brother and mean it, in every sense of the word."_

Clyde burst out laughing and playfully punched Christopher hard on the arm (really hard), but a smile alighted his normally scowled features. "You really know how to put the schmaltz in your syrup, don'tcha, kid?"

"Shut up," Wyatt groaned.

"But it's so perty," Clyde drawled.

"Bite me."

_"I left them a letter that I'm hoping you'll never see, but just in case you do, I want you to really pay attention to the last part. I told them that I don't want them to tell us about you and me when we're older. I don't want you to have to know about what happened here and now, other than to occasionally remember me. I don't want them to look at you sideways, thinking that you might be changing just because you swore at them or blew up too many demons at once or picked out a black shirt to wear two days in a row. They won't be able to help it if they do, but I still don't want that for you. It wasn't your fault. You have to know that, Wyatt. I never blamed you for any of this. I couldn't. I mean, you're my brother. How could I blame you for this? You're a Halliwell. You're a good person, now and then. You just got a little lost, that's all."_

"You're a master of understatement no matter what time you live in, huh," marveled Wyatt. "A little lost?"

Christopher jumped to the defense of his other self, knowing that he was going to be grateful for the laughs now because what was coming was not going to be easy. "He had to watch his language. You're only two."

_"If anything should happen . . . If things don't change now that we know that Gideon is responsible, I want you to know that it still won't be your fault, okay? It was never your fault, no matter what I might have said before, okay? Just try not to hold it against me. I think I have a little more of your temper than I would like to admit, I guess. I shouldn't have said that to you that day. Bianca dying wasn't a good enough excuse to say what I said to you that day. I would take it back if I could. I just . . . You don't have to worry about us. Okay? Whatever happens between us, you're still my big brother. I'll come back as many times as it takes."_

Wyatt looked at Christopher as if seeing his brother for the first time. "I know you knew you came back here, but did you know about this part?"

Where Wyatt was feeling a strange sense of sadness watching his younger self and the other version of his brother, Christopher was watching it all with a strange feeling of reassurance and dread at the same time. He knew now, even though he'd already known it, that he had done the right thing in coming back to save Wyatt. But he also knew what Wyatt didn't; he knew what was coming up for the other Chris. Maybe it was just because it gave him such a sense of dread about what was to come for them once this little day trip was over, but it left him cold. Slowly he nodded, nearly whispering as he told Wyatt, "Dad told me the night I came back. He told me everything."

"What's wrong," Wyatt asked.

As the elder son talked to his brother, the boy's counterpart looked suspiciously around the room, calling out to some unseen something. "_Hello?_"

Christopher looked sideways at his father, seeing the angel turn to an ashen grey. Remembering what he'd seen Phoebe do in the attic earlier that day and what his father had told him, he gulped hard. Sadly, he whispered to his brother, "Just watch."

"_Don't make me sacrifice you both_."

As once again, the memory of the first Chris was thrown across the room, Wyatt's eyes pulled up to watch with a flash of anger. Forgetting that it was all in the past and that there was nothing he could do about it, Wyatt lunged forward, only to have Christopher catch his bicep. His brother's nails dug hard enough into his arm that Wyatt whipped around on Christopher, ready to snap at him when he saw his brother's face. Christopher directed his attention back to where the other Chris was making a mad dash toward his baby self, obviously terrified of what would happen if he didn't get there in time. Just as it had happened before, the Elder he now knew was Gideon puffed into sight brandishing the weapon that would plunge into his other self's gut and effectively end the younger man's life. The stunned terror that caught in the past Chris's throat was this time overshadowed by the agonized groan from their big brother.

"Dad." Wyatt stumbled backward, trying to catch his breath and keep from throwing up. "Oh, god . . _It's for the best_,_ Leo,_" he muttered. "He said that as he took me away. He left you lying there when took me away. I — oh god, I remember it all. You were bleeding and crying and no one was coming and Dad and — "

Leo put a steadying hand of each of Wyatt's shoulders as his eldest started to pace erratically, but the man broke out of his father's grasp easily. Worried, Leo commanded, "Wyatt, you need to calm down."

"But I — I remember all of it, Dad. I . . . Like right there, I remember him waiting for you," Wyatt heaved as the Gideon in the past started pacing in an almost identical pattern, talking down to the wounded Chris.

"_I'm very sorry, but you had to know that I couldn't just let you get in my way_," Gideon was saying, pacing back and forth as he awaited Leo's arrival. Leo wanted to reach right into the memory and smack that phony pitied look of the sonofabitch's face as he tortured his sons, but Gideon just went on spouting twisted sympathy at his boy. "_Regardless of the outcome, I meant what I told you earlier today. You really did do an honorable thing in coming here to save your brother. I just wish that your decision to save him had been just as wise. You have to know by now that he cannot be saved. This, my work, it truly is for the greater good. One day you will see that. You all will, once the grief has passed_."

"_You touch one hair on his he-head, I'll kill you,_" the dying boy seethed, never taking his eyes off the toddler. The threat, while meant, visibly sent a current of pain through Chris's body. They could all see him have to struggle to gather the breath to call for his father one last time. Wyatt in particular watched his brother fight to keep consciousness for his younger self. He'd even tried to smile some sort of reassurance at the toddler, but he was only able to barely whisper his name.

"How could I forget," Wyatt asked himself out loud. "How could I not — " He studied the face of his little brother, seeing it as if for the first and millionth time all at once. "How did I not see you? How did I not know?"

Christopher said as evenly as he could, "That's not me. I didn't — "

Then, all of a sudden, Wyatt sat down hard on the floor. All of the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall in place, making an almost complete picture. The only pieces missing were still the question of what had happened to him to take him away from his family. But this all was so clear now. Sickly, he said, "I killed you."

"_Him_," Christopher argued, knowing that Wyatt wasn't talking about what they were seeing at the moment. "And you didn't know."

"Does it matter? He maybe wasn't _exactly_ you, but he was still my brother. Either way, I killed the man with my brother's face. Twice, I killed him."

Christopher bent down next to Wyatt and tried to be reassuring, even though he knew that Wyatt was coming to the same realization that he'd had already that day. "It wasn't like that."

"He was there to protect us. That was the perfect job for him, right? I mean, look at him! He was relentless at it. And I killed him. I . . . I told him he wasn't my brother. I told him I hated him. Oh, god. . ."

A certain understanding came to Christopher in that moment. All day in the back of his mind, he'd wondered how Wyatt would feel if he found out about the other Chris. Would Wyatt see them as the same person or give either of them a different status? Christopher knew then that part of him would always have to share his brother now, but it was okay, in a way. Christopher had been able to share the other Chris, too. He would always be guardian to them both. He was brother to them both, in a way. He could live with that. One day, Wyatt would figure that out, too. But for now, what was important was figuring out how to help Wyatt understand that the other Chris would never have blamed him for what happened. He knew he wouldn't, so he had to figure that his other self wouldn't either. "Wyatt, listen to me. He didn't blame you. You heard him. He knew you weren't you when it happened. He knew. I know. So look at me. _Look _at me. We both need you to pull it together here and help us find out what happened to you. We both need you. This family needs you."

Wyatt looked up at Christopher with thick tears in his eyes and asked the question that he had been wanting to ask his brother all day long. "How do you not hate me?"

Christopher actually chuckled, brushing the question off like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to answer, even though he had often wondered the same himself. With a cock-eyed grin, he said, "You're my big brother. Of course I hate you. Now get your ass off the floor so that I can finish the job he started, would you? Not that all of the touristy goodness hasn't been fun, but I want to go home, and we can't leave until we figure this out."

"Christopher . . . "

Seeing that his sarcastic weapon of choice wasn't going to get the job done, Christopher turned to flat out honesty once again, trying to make what he said make sense to himself in the process. He looked Wyatt hard in the eye and grabbed his attention the way he imagined his father had had to do with a wounded soldier or two to convince them to hold on long enough for him to do his magic. Fiercely, he said, "Listen to me. You remember what we decided earlier, about him and the baby? This _had _to happen so that he could be there for us when we were kids, so that he could be there that day. He had to be there so that he could be with us, to give her that vision, and to lead her to you. He got you back here to me and Mom and Dad. This had to happen. If our situations were reversed, I would have done the same. Look at what he did for you, Wyatt. I need you to get it together and do the same for yourself. You need to _save yourself_. He deserves that much." When Wyatt looked like he was about to say that he couldn't, Christopher went for the jugular, visibly trying not to cry in frustration and fear. "For the last seven years, I have watched you die slowly every day, leaving us behind piece by piece until you left us completely alone. You were my best friend. Hell, you were the other half of me. I'm not together, Wyatt. I can pretend all I want, but I don't know how to function without you. Have you watched those two little kids at all today? They don't do anything without each other. That baby is barely three weeks old and already they are inseparable. That used to be us. So if you don't want to pull it together for him, you need to do it for me because I am worthless without you."

Leo watched the scene that his sons were playing out with such interest that he didn't even notice that they had orbed into the Underworld. Instead, all he saw was the real reason that his son had come to the past twice. There had been a look in Chris's eye, both times, that had reminded Leo so much of the soldiers he had known after they had lost a limb in combat. Some went on through their entire lives thinking that the limb was still there, unable to fathom the idea that it was gone. He knew now that that was what Chris had been doing to himself, regardless of when he'd lost it in either timeline. Chris had lost that part of him that was Wyatt and would have spent his days just like his old buddies from the war, in pain from something that wasn't even there anymore because the alternative just wasn't possible in his mind. In that instant, his heart wept for all of his kids, _all of them_.

The boys continued to ignore what was going on around them, including Gideon and Barbas standing over the little boy, as they tried to figure out what was next with themselves instead of everyone else.

It wasn't until they were orbed out of that cave and into another that Clyde finally interrupted them and asked, "Shouldn't you kids be paying a little attention here?"

Surprised, Wyatt asked, "Where are we?"

In the middle of the cave, Little Wyatt was standing with a strange smile on his face. It took them all a moment to see what it was that he was seeing, but it was obvious that he was having some fun in the midst of all of the chaos of his day.

"_Check it out,_" said a rather wasted looking demon as it looked up from the pile of bones it was fighting over with another.

"_How'd he get down here,_" his companion asked.

"_Maybe the world's finally turning back in our favor?_"

With a small giggle, Little Wyatt blinked at the demon. It spontaneously combusted, disappearing into a ball of ash before it had time to scream.

"_Or not_," said the other demon as it looked fearfully at the toddler.

As the second of the two demons burst into flames, Christopher stared at his brother in surprise. "I don't think I've ever seen you do that, at least, not before you left us."

"I've never needed to," said Wyatt. His voice trembled a little bit as he admitted, "I don't like that I can. I don't use a lot of the powers I have. I don't like them. I don't like knowing where they come from. I don't even like knowing that I have them or what I can do. You have powers that I know you refuse to use, too. You have powers that even I don't. It's one of the reasons everyone has been so afraid of you."

Christopher eyed his brother suspiciously. "When Charlie and I talked about the possibility, he told me you were wrong about that. We talked about it a few hours ago. You didn't tell me. You said — Charlie, he said — When the Elders came to me two years ago and tried to get me to use certain powers against you, Charlie told me that They were wrong and that the powers didn't exist. He said that They were only speculating because of things They'd seen you do. He told me that I didn't have them and it wasn't necessary to know about them. He told me — "

"What do you mean? Charlie told you that?"

"Only when the Elders came to me that day. They cut off all ties to us after you went thermal Up There and killed half of Them. It took a lot of negotiating to get Them to even let Charlie stay with us as Whitelighter. They said They would recycle him before They let him stay with us. The only reason They agreed to it was so that we would have a healer available to us. Half the time, They wouldn't even give him information if we asked for it. We were actually starting to think that he'd left Them, too, and that he was on his own."

"He always said he would the second They turned on us," said Wyatt quietly. "He probably did and just made it up as he went along." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "He wasn't supposed to lie to you. He was supposed to tell you about your powers so that you wouldn't find out about them from Them. He was supposed to help you use them without Them finding out."

"You mean They were telling me the truth?"

Wyatt nodded guiltily. "Granted, after what we saw earlier, I understand why he lied. He was probably afraid of losing the both of us instead of just me. But still, if anything happened to me, you were supposed to know about the powers stuff so that you would be protected. You saw me talking to the Elders; you saw me talking to Charlie. They would have killed you, Christopher, if it meant that They could stop you from ever accessing the powers that you have. They were terrified of you. They were so sure that you were going to grow up to turn on Them. I don't know the exact details of why or what, but there was something that They were always afraid you would find out. They thought that if you knew whatever it was that you would, well, end up like me. I can't believe They came to you."

To the collective surprise of everyone watching him, Christopher's face darkened in a way that only Wyatt's had over the years. He was watching the toddler version of his brother with such anger that his face flushed, even in the light of the fires of the Underworld. Fiercely, he said through clinched teeth, "I think we just found out why." Under his breath, he added, "Sonofabitch."

Out of the darkness, a voice came to them that made the toddler jump. "_Wyatt? Wyatt, you have to help me! He hurt me, Wyatt. Dad can't heal me. You have to help me. Please don't let me die._"

"That isn't Chris," said Leo urgently, as if he could actually warn his toddler son. "He could hardly talk once Gideon took you. He tried, but he was too weak. I had to carry him to bed because he couldn't walk for himself."

Christopher looked to his father for confirmation. "And Paige was with him, right? That was what she was talking about last night when she was babbling about killing me. She was remembering the SWAT team and all that, right? So he couldn't be down here."

"I know it isn't him," said Wyatt softly. "I mean, Little Me knows it isn't Chris."

Leo asked, "How do you know?"

With a meaningful glance at his brother, who immediately seemed to understand what Wyatt was saying, the elder brother said sadly, "He knows Chris is gone. He can feel it. He doesn't really know _why_ he knows, I don't think, but he knows. That's not his brother. That's not _his_ Chris."

The voice seemed to grow angry as it went on, begging for Wyatt's help in a voice that was neither weak nor loving. The toddler showed true fear for the first time as the voice grew more agitated, bouncing off the walls as it drew closer. He drew his blue warbling bubble up around him, only to find that it was still damaged from what Gideon had done to it. The toddler started to pout, plopping down right where he was as if he had just learned to stand for the first time. His pout quickly turned to real tears, his breaths coming in small rasps and hiccups.

"_iss, iss, iss, iss_," he cried.

Little Wyatt's tears quickly dried when another voice called out to him. "_Wyatt, can you hear me, it's Daddy_."

Apparently eager to hear a familiar voice and too afraid to not answer it, they all were transported in a cloud of orbs to another cave, only to find Gideon waiting there for them. He sneered at the toddler with a satisfied greeting. "_Hello, Son,_" he said as a crystal cage enclosed the already tremendously powerful little boy.

"_I'm so sorry to lure you like this. Barbas, where are you? BARBAS!_" When the demon appeared, he said, "_It's time._"

"_Well , it took you long enough._"

"_Your impatience is growing tiresome_." He held up the athame for the demon to see. "_I blessed it already. Now it's your turn._" They all saw Wyatt looking terrified for the first time, almost ready to cry. The look on the boy's face made the fear demon hesitate enough for Gideon to ask, "_Is something wrong?_"

"_As a matter of fact . . . there is._"

The boys both flinched when they saw the demon Barbas turn into their father. Leo flinched when he saw himself stab his mentor. There were still days when he couldn't believe that their friendship had come to that. Apparently, neither had Gideon.

"_Why?_"

"_Because. You murdered my son._"

They all followed the past Leo as he stalked toward the crumpled Gideon. Even as the Elder pleaded his case to the devastated father, the same look came over the present Leo's face. Three weeks later, the story was no more sensible than it had been that day.

Oddly, Christopher saw the anger in his father's face and shuddered. He finally knew how it was that his brother's features could go so dark and become unrecognizable to him. His father's had done the same thing and had fallen into the hatred once again. Softly, he told his brother, "You look like him. I never saw it before, not that much. I mean, you generally look a lot more like him than Mom, but the rest of it. I never noticed how dark the two of you could get."

"Neither one of us saw a lot of things," Wyatt shrugged. "Apparently powers come served with blindness on the side in this family."

"Not just the family," said Christopher while Gideon continued to try to scramble away and plead his case to their father.

"_Leo, please, you have to understand, I am only doing this for the greater good. I swear._"

Their Leo turned his back on himself and his mentor so that he wouldn't have to see the heartbreak on his own face as he realized the true depths of how far Gideon had sunk. Even more so, he didn't want to see how it had eluded him for so long that Gideon was the one after his children. Every day he had wondered how he could have been so blind to it that his son had had to die. Every day. Even as his past asked the question, he knew that he would forever regret hearing the man's answer. "_How is killing a child ever for the greater good, and who the hell are you to decide that?_"

"_I'm an Elder, so are you, it's what We do_," said Gideon to the disgust of both Leos and their sons.

Christopher and Wyatt both wanted to cheer the moment that they had always been denied hearing about, the moment when their father had returned to them fully. "_I'm not one of you any more._"

Wyatt, in particular, was blown away by what Gideon had to say, scared that, in some ways, maybe the crazy old man had been right. "_Leo, listen to me, you know what happens, you know what Chris came here to stop. Let me finish what I started. Let me save the future, the only way it could be saved._"

Leo turned back around then, wanting the satisfaction of seeing his act against Gideon one more time. It sounded awful to hear himself think so smugly about it, but there it was. He had exacted vengeance for his boy. What else was he supposed to do? He would always be a father first, never an Elder. He knew now that that was the one thing that Gideon could never have understood. None of Them could. He knew that part of him was never going to forgive any of Them for that, and certainly not Gideon.

Lightning bolts from Leo's hands illuminated the caverns as Gideon howled in his dying moments. Both boys harbored a secret pleasure in seeing their father stand up for them the way he had, never having really known their father in their lifetimes. Somehow, they both felt closer to him as this other version of Chris and Little Wyatt were avenged.

"_You have no idea what you've done_," gasped the dying Elder at them all, almost as if he could see them, condemning them all.

Just as past Leo reached up to destroy the mirror, Christopher wanted to stop him. He suddenly wondered if Gideon _had_ seen them because he could swear he saw Wyatt standing there in the reflection above the disintegrating Elder's body. Christopher looked at Wyatt then, trying to hold on to the thought that hadn't really formed and was quickly running away from him. "What was it Lucy said before she brought you here?"

" '_You have to see to know_' , I think, or something like that. I'm not sure."

Still grasping at the words that were slipping away from him, Christopher was surprised to hear himself humming. He had no idea why. He didn't think he could even place the song, but there was something about it that kept it in his head. The same words kept repeating, over and over, without going beyond even though he knew there had to be more to the song. W_hat makes you think you're the one who can live without tryin'? What makes you think you're the one who can live without dyin'? Every little thing is there to see . . ._ God, where had he heard that before?

Damn! Suddenly it came back to him, hard. His dream. He had woken himself screaming the night before. He hadn't slept since, but the dream felt so far away. He suddenly saw it in such stark detail, even more so than he had when he'd first woken up. She had been right there. Lucy had told him exactly what she . . . She had known that she was going to try to save Wyatt. She had known she was going to die. She knew!

Those damn visions. He couldn't understand it. If his theory was correct, Chris must have done something to be able to give her those visions. But what? There were any number of explanations that — _Every little thing is there to see_! She had seen more than that. She had seen _a lot_ more.

"She knew it happened when you were a kid. She tried to show me last night and I missed it."

"How could she show you anything? You were here and she was with me," asked Wyatt.

Excitedly, Christopher thought out loud, his dream playing in fast-forward in his head as his mouth tried to keep up with his thoughts. "I don't know, but she was there. I saw her just last night. She tried to tell me. She knew. She showed me the sword in her chest. She showed me you as you were and as a child, but you hadn't changed. You still talked like you did and had the same powers. You just grew up. . well, down. She knew you were hiding something from us. Now that I've seen — I think she meant the Elders. She was trying to help me. You were in a fog and talking with someone else's voice. She sang this damned song that Sam always liked. She . . . She told me she would be sitting this one out. She knew she was going to die today. And you told me that I should have listened to her more often. She showed me — Oh, man. She knew about Gideon. How did she know about Gideon?"

"Chris told her," suggested Wyatt hesitantly.

"Maybe. I guess that would explain how she was able to tell me what he looked like. But how — "

Christopher kept watching for a moment as the body continued to disintegrate into a fine powder while Leo, Wyatt, and Clyde followed Leo back out to where Little Wyatt was waiting anxiously inside the crystal cage for his father. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of the cave as the past Leo kicked a crystal out of his way. He cleared his thoughts before he could let them run away from him. He needed to be watching the Now, not getting lost in his head. Otherwise, what was he doing there?

Gideon's words echoed in his head as he cleared everything else out and opened his eyes again. _You have no idea what you've done_. He heard Gideon's voice in his dream as well. _Your ears are as closed as your eyes_.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

In the next room, Clyde polished his fingers on his breast, examining them with a heavy, obvious sigh. When no one responded to his efforts, the guide huffed just a little louder. He glanced at the watch he didn't own and rolled his eyes. Finally unable to contain himself any longer, he growled, "Didja get whatcha came for this time or what? I got other things I gotta be doin', ya know. And I ain't had lunch. My blood sugar can't handle these all day jobs."

Leo coughed back the lump in his throat as he watched himself scoop up the toddler version of his child. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but he felt like setting the record straight for all three of his sons and said without looking at his eldest, "Does that look like a father who ever even considered for a moment leaving his son?"

A little disbelieving, Wyatt asked, "You want to start a fight _now_?_ Here_? I said what I said to get a rise out of Christopher, not to — Damn it, Dad, why would you bring that up right now?"

Before either of them could escalate the situation further, whatever direction Leo had intended for it to go, Christopher interrupted them. As hard as it was for him to believe, a black shadow was clinging to the wall just above the cave floor and was inching closer and closer to the younger Wyatt. There was no light source that could have created it, nothing in the way between any light and the wall to be shadowed. It was just there. He wanted to just smack himself upside the head for missing it. How could he not have noticed it before? But then, any time after this, he supposed, if he were to try to find it again, it would only appear to him long enough for him to blink, something there then gone as soon as his eyes found it. It was almost . . . Wyatt had been so literal about it that afternoon, describing his life as being '_Under Shadow_' or '_In the Black_' or whatever. How could he not have seen it? Wryly, he groaned, "Talk about your '_something missed_'."

Leo stopped short of whatever he was going to say. "What?"

Christopher pointed at the phantom blackness as it struggled most likely to take shape and remain concealed at the same time. "Tell me you see that."

"See what," asked Leo.

Wyatt, on the other hand, groaned. "You have got to be kidding me."

"This is getting ridiculous," Christopher agreed.

"That sonofabitch just won't die," marveled Wyatt.

From his exhausted perch on a boulder, Clyde clapped his hands in congratulations. "It's about time! I been waitin' on the two a'you to see that all day. You're both blind as drunken bats. All a'ya. Now can we get outta here? I'm not dressed to be down here. Damn heat . . ."

Forgetting for a moment that their father was still watching them, Wyatt turned to his little brother as he remembered always doing. It felt natural to him to turn to Christopher. He couldn't explain it, but it was always there. If he needed something in this or any other world, he needed Christopher. This was definitely one of those times. "Okay, Genius, got any idea how I'm supposed to fight _that_? And without powers?"

"Fight what," asked Leo. "One of you better tell me what's going on."

"Clyde's right," Christopher argued. "We need to get out of here. We need to get that thing away from Little Wyatt. God knows what he's been doing to him for the last three weeks." When Leo grabbed his arm to try to grab his son's attention, Christopher said calmly, "I'll explain everything once we get back. There's nothing more we're going to learn here. Let's go." He glanced over his shoulder at his brother. "I'm not letting that sonofabitch take you away from us again." To Clyde he said, "Get us home."

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	9. I Never Liked How Our Story Ended Anyway

**Chapter Nine  
****I Never Liked the Way Our Story Ended Anyway**

**I.**

"Hey," said Chris pleasantly from his front row seat at the foot of the bed. He smiled sadly at his aunt, trying to block out the imagery of what was going on for her; he'd lived that once and didn't really want to live it again. Besides, he had a job to do at the moment. He had plenty of time to mope and feel sorry for himself once she was safely back home. He stretched his grin at her a little bigger, letting it take his uneasiness away. Tenderly, he reached his hand into hers and pulled hard enough to let her know that it was okay to sit up and talk. "Big day, huh?"

Once sitting up, Phoebe gaped at her nephew, almost annoyed at how calm he looked sitting there at her feet like they were just having a perfectly normal conversation. Irritated, she griped, "Since the day I met you, you've had a talent for the understatement, but I think that one is a bit over the top, don't you?"

"You've seen some of the highlights of my life. Do you blame me?"

"Yes," she answered begrudgingly.

Reminded of something Paige had said to him once, Chris said gently, "I had to survive the sadness somehow."

Unable to argue with the sentiment, Phoebe sat quietly, looking around her at the seemingly frozen space of time that her mind had become. That is, if it was her mind. She wasn't entirely sure of anything these days. She especially wasn't sure when she looked down and saw Chris's legs instead of her own. She reacted violently, trying to push herself back on the bed, only to tumble out of his body and onto off the bed backwards. She hit the floor hard and quickly scampered into the corner, as if hiding were the answer. She raised a shaky hand at the bed, unable to actually see over the edge to know if anything was still there. Her finger wagged wildly as she stammered, "Wh-wh-what the _hell_ is going on? How did you do that?"

"You tell me," said Chris cryptically without bothering to look back at her. "This is your thing."

More annoyed at her nephew's lack of emotion than she was afraid, Phoebe hauled herself to her feet, prepared to give the kid a good talking-to if he didn't at least try to help her out. Her lecture was caught in the back of her throat as she got a good look at the scene in the room. Aside from her nephew's back, there was a pale, bleeding version of Chris laying on the bed. Cradling his head, looking beyond desperate, was a frozen Leo. In the doorway, Paige was frozen in her struggle to keep herself standing. Phoebe's eyes darted between the faces of the three, seeing them as if for the first time. She had relived this moment a few times now, but never like this. She covered her mouth with her hand, not trusting herself to speak. Even with the barrier, a heartbroken "Oh, Chris" escaped with a sob.

Hearing his cue, Chris stood up and walked over to his aunt. He took her hands and pulled her away from the scene, but not out of sight of it. He sat them down on the sofa, never letting go of her. Softly, he asked, "You okay?"

"Am _I_ okay," she hiccuped incredulously, pointing at his dying body. "None of this — none of _that_ is okay."

"I'm dead, Phoebe," the man shrugged. "I really don't have to worry too much about '_okay_' anymore. I'm much more worried about you. You want to tell me what's going on here?"

"_Personal Gain_," the witch winced guiltily. "Damn it."

"I had that much figured out already. A little more detail would be nice. Not that I need it, but I would like to hear it from you, not Them."

Phoebe smiled at her nephew with tears in her eyes. Her hand shook as she fondly touched his cheek like a kiss. "I couldn't risk us losing you, not after everything that happened. Obviously we have a little bit of a backfire here, but I . . . They are so mad at us and your father that I had to take precautions. Paige is having such a hard time, and your Dad. Your mom says she's okay, but — I had to do something. I couldn't stand the thought of us forgetting you."

"So you thought it would make me feel better if my memory killed you instead?"

"It was _not_ supposed to be like that. It was supposed to be nothing more than a simple memory spell. I only needed it to be powerful enough that the Cleaners couldn't take you away from us like they tried to take Wyatt. It wasn't supposed to actually bring me _your_ memories. It was supposed to keep our own memories. We couldn't lose you again. I couldn't let us forget."

"I wasn't worried about you forgetting. And you didn't lose me."

Phoebe shook her head in disagreement. "But we did. There is another You with us now. He didn't know anything about you and had a very different life from you. Things didn't work out differently enough that he doesn't still have a problem with Wyatt, but he's not you. We know he isn't you."

"That doesn't make me lost."

"But we assumed that you were with the baby, except he apparently didn't grow up to be you. I mean, he obviously can't be, not if an adult You is in two places at once."

"I'm good, but I'm not that good," he joked. With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Chris told his aunt in his most sincere voice, "You still didn't lose me. Cleaners, shmeaners. I may not be corporeal outside of this nifty piece of time and space, but that doesn't mean that I'm not with you. I'm no more gone from you than Grams and Grandma and Prue. You need to trust that things work out the way they're supposed to. How many times are you going to learn that lesson before you actually believe it?"

"A few more times." Phoebe looked back over to where Leo wept over the last breath of his dying son and heaved a catchy sigh. She tried to shake the tears away, even as she finally saw the wound she had only felt until now. Even though it sounded ridiculous to her, she said, "That looks like it hurt."

Chris barely glanced at the memory of his body and shrugged. "I've had better days. So have you."

Phoebe was quiet for a while, focusing on Paige and Leo's frozen faces as they looked on in horror at the wound that threatened to take her voice away with every minute that passed. Guiltily, she babbled, " I can't believe . . It must be so awful to keep seeing — The spell wasn't supposed to hurt anyone. It was supposed to keep your memory alive for us, not your memories. I never wanted them to have to relive this. Had I known — "

"They are reliving it, with or without your help, every day," Chris interrupted, a little more sternly than he'd intended. His own eyes turned to the faces of his father and aunt, devastated. Dad had tried _so_ hard. To see that expression on his father's face wasn't getting any easier now that he could see it someplace besides in his head. He had to admit; part of him was angry at Phoebe. She should have known better. But still, he knew that he was right. It was one of the few times that he knew he could give his aunt advice and actually be right. Lessening the tone in his voice, he told her, "People relive death all the time. Dad and Paige might be a little excessive about it these days, especially with their own little spells, but it's still fresh for them. They went through a lot that day. It will settle down eventually. You didn't have to worry about them forgetting. You just needed to give them time to grieve."

"I was so sure that the Elders would want this mess cleaned up to keep us on Their side. Gideon couldn't be the only one who thought the way he did. I know They wouldn't want us to remember any of this. I mean, situations like ours must be exactly what the Cleaners were created for. They must be furious at us for quitting and for what happened with your father. The Elders had to have been wanting this fixed as quickly as possible."

"They did," admitted Chris. "Or so I've been told. I'm not on Their '_Favorite People_' list right now, to say the least."

Phoebe gave her nephew The Eye before she even realized that she was doing it. "What have you done?"

Anxious to ignore that subject for the time being, Chris instead turned on his aunt. He started casually so that his attack on her would come at least somewhat unexpectedly. "So I have to ask — What the hell are you people doing down there? I wasn't that good at the whole Whitelighter thing, but you shouldn't be _that_ lost without me. I mean, come on! _Personal Gain_ spells left and right, trips to the future, trips to the past, the Warren line dying twenty-five years before he's even born? What the hell is going on, Phoebe?"

Before Phoebe could think about how she was wording herself, she admitted the real reason behind all of the insanity she had created in their lives. "I'm trying to save you. I couldn't do it that day, but I — "

"I'm already dead," Chris said. "There isn't anything that you can do about that."

Angrily, Phoebe argued, "It was my fault. If we — if _I_ had gotten to Piper in time, she never would have cast that spell. We lost you because I wasn't trying hard enough. I was so worried about Wyatt that I didn't take the time to worry about you. It's my fault, and I need to make it right."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but has it ever occurred to you that maybe it was just my time? Or that someone had a plan?"

Flustered at the idea that he could be so calm about living such a short life when it could have been prevented, Phoebe burst out angrily, "How can you say that? After everything we — There is no plan! There is no goddamned _Grand Design_ because, if there was, Gideon never would have been able to do what he did. He wouldn't have been able to take Wyatt. He wouldn't have been able to do what he did to you and to all of us. Screw the _Grand Design_ and to Hell with anyone's plans!"

"People die young, just as often as they die old."

Tears of frustration fell from the woman's face in her anger at her nephew's inability to accept that she was right and he was wrong. "You were _too_ young."

Chris tried not to sound condescending as he asked, "How old is old enough?"

Petulantly, Phoebe whined, "Older than _this_. You didn't get to have a life."

"Sure I did. And I used it to save my family. When I was growing up, it was just me and Wyatt. From what I understand, this time Grandpa had eight grandchildren. That's a lot of love, Phoebe. When you get there, this will all have been worth it."

"We can't just let you die, Chris."

Chris smiled almost serenely at his aunt. He knew, based on all of the craziness that they were going through at the moment, that this was not what she wanted to hear, but he tried to soften the blow anyway. Gently, he told her, "It really is okay. I mean, there are definitely parts about dying the way that I did that I don't recommend, but I got to hear both of my parents tell me that they love me. Considering everything that happened between us, I'm okay with that being how my part of the story ends. You guys need to be okay with that, too."

"Chris," Phoebe sighed, wanting to keep arguing. She saw his face, though, and knew that it wasn't an argument that she was going to win. Her tone let him know that she wasn't happy with the resolution of the conversation, but she changed the subject slightly to let him know that she wasn't going to try to change his mind anymore. "Paige, um . . . Paige said that you disappeared. You obviously didn't go to the future and you didn't join the baby, so I . . . I . . . so where have you been? Grams told Piper that Mom and Prue had all been called away, and she assumed after talking to Piper that it was about you, but she said she hadn't seen you yet. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise. I just put up a little too much of a fight, I guess."

"How so?"

For the first time, Chris looked like he had a regret or two about the day he had died. Stiffly, he told her, "I couldn't leave you guys when Gideon was still out there. Wyatt was all that mattered that day. If you were to ask certain people, they'd probably say I made a real nuisance of myself."

"And now? Where are we now?"

"We're where you needed to be," said Chris, then amended himself. "We're where the spell apparently thought you needed to be. So I guess the question now is, what is it that you're looking for? You know you can't save me. You know that you can't stay in my head forever — and you can't stay in yours. Paige learned that lesson last night. It's about time you learned it, too."

Unable to answer the question, Phoebe weakly joked, "Look at you, sounding just like a Whitelighter. I think you missed your calling."

Chris was unswayed by the joke and gave his aunt a hard look. "You and I both know that _Personal Gain_ spells come with a price. You're living yours. With the price always comes a lesson. So let's have it. You know that the spell isn't going to let you go until you give up and learn what you're supposed to learn And no offence, but I can think of places I'd rather be at the moment."

Phoebe almost looked scared at the harshness in her nephew's words. She shook her head, unable to even argue with him. The prospect of admitting what she knew she was supposed to learn was too much. It meant losing too much.

Forcefully, Chris tried to get the lesson through her thick skull. To be honest, he had always been careful not to sound too angry with his family, even his father, during his time with them. He had only done it once or twice, invoking his brother's voice that normally scared the bejeepers out of him to use on them. This was going to have to be one of those times. Dark and callous, he told her, "You need to stop living in the past or the future. All of you. You need to live for the now, before you miss it. Do you get that those two little kids in that house need you to be the grownups? They need you to be there for them, not chasing me through portals or casting spells that damned near get you killed! When in the hell are you people going to knock it off?"

"Chris — "

"No, seriously. Do you realize that they are seeing everything I saw through your eyes? My life flashing before my eyes and all that? When you froze, so did my memories. Right now, you have a memory of Wyatt standing over you with an energy ball in his hand ready to throw it at me. They have had to tip-toe around that for hours. Do you understand how hard I worked to keep you from knowing about what happened to him? Do you have any idea how hard I worked to keep Mom and Dad from knowing what their son had turned into? Now they have to try to work around that while they're trying to save you. Even when this is over, that memory is never going to go away for them. Twenty years from now, when Wyatt looks just like that, they're going to catch him out of the corner of their eyes and that is what they are going to see. I never wanted that for them. I didn't want that for him! It's bad enough that he has memories of his own to worry about. You know, you saw. He was there, he saw what Gideon did to me. I can't take that back for him. Now he has to see that again. None of them needed that. I didn't want that for any of them!"

"I didn't know."

"You never know, Phoebe. I mean, come on! I am so grateful for everything you have done for me in my life, and I love you, but sometimes you can be so damned selfish."

"Now you wait a minute," demanded Phoebe. "I know this one has _Personal Gain_ written all over it and that, in the long run, I probably should have just left well enough alone, but I was doing what I thought was right. I didn't see this happening."

Chris raised his voice, forgetting for the moment that it was his aunt he was hollering at. "Of course you didn't. You never do."

"So, what? You postponed our collective death so that you could get in one more lecture? You aren't exactly pure as the fallen snow yourself, pal."

"I never claimed to be," said Chris. "But I'm not the one hurting them right now. You are."

"And I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

Phoebe walked away from her nephew heatedly. She turned back toward him several times then continued to walk away until she was as far apart from him in the room as she could be. Horribly hurt, she asked, "How can you even ask me that?"

"Because you're the one still sitting here arguing with me instead of going back to our family to help them. Wyatt and Christopher just lost their sister and are barely clinging on to their sanity right now just trying to keep it together enough for Mom and Dad. In their spare time, they're still trying to figure themselves out, too. They need you to help them save Wyatt so that they can go to their proper future. Instead, you're hiding out here."

Their voices escalating to the point of screaming now, Phoebe practically screeched, "A future that was supposed to be yours!"

"It _isn't_ mine anymore. We missed the boat on that one. But this isn't even about me. This is about you."

"Yeah? Then how about we _make_ it about you? You want to talk about hurt? Your parents still can hardly look at each other without realizing what it is they lost, and I don't mean you. You've been sitting here with this all-seeing eye thing going on. Tell me, how do they look to you whenever they are together? You split them up, Chris. You're the one who caused this rift in them that they may never be able to repair all because you couldn't be just a little bit honest with us. So before you want to start in lecturing me about how _I _am putting our family through Hell, maybe you should give that lecture to yourself first. Then we'll see who gets to yell the loudest."

As Chris glared right back at his aunt, he had to physically restrain himself from orbing out like he normally would in this situation. "You're really going to question my methods? Look at the way you all reacted to me when I tried to tell you about Wyatt. None of you believed me. Sure, everyone is thrilled with me _now_, but not a one of you trusted that I was doing it for the right reasons. None of you wanted to believe that there could be anything wrong with precious little Wyatt. You've seen what it was like. You were no different in the past than you were in my lifetime. You wanted to believe him because of a flimsy prophecy, which, by the way, was manipulated in the first place. The idea that a prophecy could in any way be misinterpreted was impossible to you. It drove my father out of my life and got him killed. Yes, I want to see my parents back together again, but you know damned well that I was doing what I thought was right. You've been hiding out in my head now for weeks. You've seen it. You know. I don't get why it's so hard for you to understand. If it was Mom or Paige who had turned evil on you, is there anything that you wouldn't do to save her? Wyatt is my brother. I had to do this. I was and am willing to accept the consequences of that. I would rather my parents be separated and alive than what I had to live with."

"That wasn't up to you," snapped Phoebe. "You aren't a god, Chris."

"I'm not the one acting like one," he retorted.

"Aren't you?"

"No, I'm not. You, on the other hand . . . "

"Hold on — "

Chris waved his arm around, indicating the picture of space and time that would be forever frozen in his own mind as the last place he expected to die. He caught sight of his own body and shivered, but quickly covered himself. This wasn't about him. He truly believed that. He was going to get Phoebe out of this last one, no matter what. He could pout later. He threw a few extra coals on the fire to keep his temper hot and bristled, "Look around you, Phoebe! Do you even realize what you've done? The Tribunal warned you. No _Personal Gain_. For God's sakes, they took away your active powers. You were supposed to learn. You were supposed to understand that you can't be doing these kinds of things."

Phoebe drew in a breath to once again defend herself, to remind her nephew that she was not ten years old, but Chris cut her off before she could get a sound out. " — "

"No. You don't get to interrupt me. One of the things I figured out about what went wrong with us is that I never took on being your Whitelighter the way I should have. I was too used to being your nephew, too used to having to respect my elders, which you were regardless of time. But this time, I'm not giving you options. You're going to listen to me. I need you to understand that you _have_ to listen to me. You will never know what I gave up to do this for you right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Right now, your body is in a sort of stasis so that we can sit here and talk this out. That wasn't supposed to happen. The Tribunal has been watching you since they stripped your powers. They know all about this spell. Their decision was to let the spell play itself out on its own, no interference. If you were able to come out of it on your own, bully for you, but if you were unable to fight it and ended up like you are now, you were supposed to just die with my memory. The Power of Three be damned. You had made your decision to mess with things again. I went through every single being I could get to to keep that from happening. If that means I'm '_playing God_', then fine, but I am not going to let you use me as an excuse to rip this family apart. I worked too hard to keep you all alive. And if that makes me selfish, fine on that one, too. Hell, at this point, if you want me to play the _You Owe Me_ card, I will. But don't think for one second that I am letting you out of here just to let you die. If nothing else, I am not in any way ready to spend Eternity with you. I'm twenty-three years old. I have an afterlife of my own to lead before any of you come up there."

"That's _not_ funny," Phoebe sobbed angrily.

Still annoyed, Chris asked, "What am I supposed to do about it? Lie? Should I just pretend that this is a temporary situation to make you feel better? I _died_, Phoebe. End of story. You don't get to gloss over it. You don't get to make it about you."

"That wasn't what I was trying to do."

Even though he was perfectly aware that his aunt had had the best of intentions (she always — almost always — did), Chris bit back at her, "Of course not."

"Have you even considered that this wasn't just about you," asked Phoebe, trying to smart her way around his logic once again. "If They had the Cleaners erase you and Gideon from our lives, they would have to have removed Wyatt from our memories again. That would be a pretty lousy reward for saving your kid brother to have him be wiped off the planet anyway, don't you think?"

"I don't have a lot of time here. I wish I had all the time in the world to listen to you try to rationalize your way around all of this, I do. But the truth is there is only one reason that you did this, and unless you are able to work your way through that reason, your body is going to start up again and die the same death that I did. I've got to tell you, it wasn't all that fun. I don't think it will be much fun for Dad and Paige either, let alone Mom and Grandpa."

The witch sat defeatedly on the edge of the sofa again, unable to look at her nephew any longer. She sounded so desperate as she asked him, "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth would be a good place to start," he said gently, fighting the crooked smile that wanted to creep into his voice. _Now we're getting somewhere. Finally._

"Like what? That I feel guilty? Okay, fine, I feel guilty. I wasn't there. I didn't listen to you or your father when you tried to tell us we were under a spell. I didn't believe your father when he told us you were dying. I couldn't help Piper and I couldn't help Wyatt. I couldn't help your father and I sure as hell couldn't help you. If I hadn't lost my powers, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in everything but you, I might have been there to help you. You deserved to get home to that future you helped to create. You would have made it if it hadn't been for me."

Chris went over to sit on the floor in front of his aunt, sat cross-legged, and placed his hands in hers. She was trying so hard to look anywhere but where he was, but he knew if he sat there staring at her long enough, she would look sooner or later. When she finally did, he wanted to take back everything he had just yelled at her. She looked so lost, so unconfident, so not Phoebe. Not sure what the best thing was going to be to say to her to make her remember who she was, he smiled softly up at her. "You know that isn't true. You did what you could."

"This isn't right," Phoebe said hopelessly, pulling her hands away from her dead nephew. She didn't need a physical reminder of her failures right now. It was hard enough being in the same room with him, let alone having to fight with him. It was too much. "I can't do this. I just don't understand why this is happening, again. Haven't we done this enough?"

Chris studied his aunt for a second, realizing for the first time that she really didn't know. Even with everything that she had been through, becoming a witch had made her forget the only thing in this world that is inevitable. "Grief is part of life. We don't get a free pass just because we have powers."

Darkly, Phoebe pishawed, "No, we don't. We just get it piled on because we have powers."

"No, we don't," he argued. "Our family experiences may be different, but they're the same. We may have a propensity for dying a little more violently than some families, but we don't die any more than they do. We don't have the corner on the grief market."

"Says the kid who was so wracked with grief over his life that he came twenty-three years into the past to stop it from happening to him . . . "

"That isn't how it was, and you know it. I didn't come to the past because everyone was dead around me. It wasn't even out of grief for the way that Wyatt was, although that helped. You know that. You saw what it was like. The other stuff, though, I can't tell you exactly why right now, but I now know that I knew things I wasn't supposed to know. I knew things about Wyatt and me that — well — Let's just say that the Elders knew a lot more about me than They let on to Dad when I first got here. Tell Christopher that. He'll catch on. I did."

Suspiciously, Phoebe asked, "What do you mean?"

"I'm not even supposed to be here, Phoebe. I called in a lot of favors to get you here so that I could save you — from yourself, again, by the way — and I'm not wasting it. You'll remember everything we've said here when you wake up. That's as close as I can get to this."

"That wasn't an answer to my question."

"Did I promise an answer to the question," he smirked. When his aunt answered him with a rather unhappy look, he shrugged half-heartedly, still smirking. "Sorry."

"Sure, you are."

Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that. The silence grew. Chris grew more anxious, as he usually did, while Phoebe seemed oblivious to him. She stared at the dying boy on the bed, gathering the courage to leave him, like she knew she was going to have to soon. They had probably already been there too long. She knew that. Spells were still spells, even if they gave something good out of the bad. She could feel it; she had fulfilled the catch in the spell and it was going to take her away very, very soon.

Before it could do its magic again, Phoebe needed to get a few more things out. Uneasily, she asked for his attention. "Chris?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really sorry about your sister," Phoebe offered. When Chris gave her a look, she asked, "What?"

Chris regarded his aunt with a cocked eyebrow. "You've been living in my head now for three weeks and you think you need to give _me_ condolences? I never had a family, Phoebe. It was just me and Wyatt. You know that. Paige was gone when the Titans came around. Even after I changed the history, you were both still out of the picture long before there was ever any hope of any other children. And with Dad needed Up There all the time, in either history . . . It was just us. But you knew that."

"Sorry. The last week has been a little hazy, I guess. It's getting harder to tell the two of you apart."

"I'm the good-looking one," Chris joked. "He's the one with the pulse."

"Not funny."

Thoughtfully, Chris shrugged his head to the side with a rueful grin. "Maybe not, but it's honest, and that's what you wanted most from me when I was still alive, right? Honesty?"

"You're a day late and a dollar short, mister," Phoebe replied.

"Maybe." Chris waited a beat then said in all seriousness, "But you can do me a favor anyway and tell him that she's okay. Clarence is good at his job. He's taking good care of her. We both are. Tell him I'll take care of her like she was my own."

Phoebe regarded her nephew oddly, thinking that that was awfully sweet of him to offer but also rather resigned of his fate, as if he were giving up his place in their lives. Still, it was his move now, so she agreed with a sad "I will."

"She also asked me to tell you to tell him that he needs to pay more attention to the visions."

"He'll know what that means?"

Chris shrugged with his face, not exactly sure of his answer himself. "I guess. She didn't go into a lot of detail. She just said she'd tell me later, not that she defined '_later_'. It's not like we're having a shortage of time here. She could stretch this one out forever if she wanted."

Phoebe winced at the implications of that expansive space of time available to her future niece to torture her past future nephew with. What a waste. God, she hated this. It was so unfair that that time had arrived for either of the kids. Almost pouting, she said, "Guilt tripping not helping."

"No guilt trip. Just honesty."

"Yeah, see, this whole honesty thing isn't as fun as I thought it would be."

"Hey, Genius, that was your idea, not mine." Chris felt the conversation take a turn that he knew would come sooner or later, once his aunt had avoided the subject long enough. Drawing her attention back to the matter at hand, he gently nudged her thoughts in that direction. "But look, you should go. They all need you back in the real world. He needs you."

"You need us, too."

That oddly serene expression came over the young witch's face once again, the same one that his father had worn every time he'd spent too much time Up There. Even his voice sounded to be at peace as he told her, "I lived my life, no regrets. He's still living his. However this turns out for him, it's his life that matters now. I'm okay with that. If he can save Wyatt, that's all that matters, right?"

"You mattered, Chris. You deserved better."

"So does he. You should go. Mom's going through a lot right now. She needs at least one of us to be okay. Right now, that's you."

"I don't want to let you go."

"You have to." He held her hands and pulled her close to him, giving her a sweet, soft kiss on the top of her head to end the discussion, whether she liked it or not. "I'll be around. My brother has his own personal guardian angel now. I kind of think I might be good at the job."

Tears welled in the witch's eyes as she took in this particular version of her nephew for what she knew would be the last time. So proud, she told him without a hint of doubt, "I know you will. We'll be counting on it."

"Hey, Phoebe? That other thing you said? It was nice to hear."

"I'm just sorry we didn't say it sooner."

"Remember to tell _him_ that so that you don't have to regret it a second time."

"I will. Anything else?"

Chris seemed to consider his answer for only half a second, as if he felt guilty for taking advantage of an opportunity that wasn't for him. Still, she was there. He had to do at least something. Fondly, he said, "Tell Paige that I appreciated everything she did for me that day. I was glad she was with me. Tell Grandpa that I'm sorry for breaking my promise, but that I hope he understands why. And just . . . Tell my parents that I love them."

Realizing that that was it, that they had said their _Goodbyes_ and that it wasn't as hard as she thought that it would be, Phoebe said, "However else we screwed up, we love you, Chris." Almost as an afterthought, she said out loud to the Mistress of Magical Mishaps and Spell Backfires controlling this little visit of theirs, "All right already, lesson learned. No more chaos, no more spells, no more moping."

"A _little_ bit of moping would be nice," Chris joked.

"Okay, a little bit," groaned Phoebe. "So how do I get out of here?"

"I can take care of that." Chris smiled at her then waved his hand. The world around them turned so white that they both had to close their eyes. Phoebe thought she heard him wish her luck before the brightness overtook her, and chose to keep that happy thought with her as she felt herself leave.

**II.**

Back in the attic, Piper shut The Book on her lap and hefted the tome onto the sofa next to her. She stretched back, stood up, and stretched some more. Her body was really starting to get angry with her for the way she'd been treating it over the last few days, so she reached back with her right hand and massaged the heck out of the muscle next to her left shoulder blade in the hopes that it would forgive her for just a few more hours. She'd find a way to lie her way through the next bodily protest when it happened to come along.

Needing a chance to refocus, she made her way over to where they had left Phoebe. Paige was standing guard over her sister, still not showing too many signs of what she herself had been through in the last few weeks. Piper looked down on her baby sister with a nose wrinkled in concern.

"How are you doing?"

The youngest witch yawned, but smiled through it. "I'm okay. What about you?"

"Looking forward to this being over so that I can sleep without guilt," admitted the elder sister. "But okay. Considering that my evil son from the future came here to beat the hell out of his little brother and then have it all be just a ruse to get said little brother to talk to him, I think I'm okay. How often do your evil children come to visit you from the future, you know?"

Paige tried to sound hopeful as she pointed out, "Christopher doesn't think Wyatt is evil anymore."

"So I suppose I should believe him. I'm trying to. I think I do. There's something about the way he started crying when their friend died that — it's just strange, that's all. Let's just say I'm being cautiously optimistic."

"Have they told you who she was?"

Piper laughed coldly and rolled her eyes. "_Future Consequences_. But nevermind that. They say that they can deal with it on their own. After the conversation I had with Christopher last night, I'm going to trust that he's right on that one. He's an adult, right? I shouldn't interfere until he wants me to."

Sympathetically, Paige offered, "It isn't you, Piper. When I lost my parents, I was the same way for a long time. It didn't matter how hard my aunt and uncle tried, I had had my parents and they were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. I know it isn't exactly the same, but I understand how they feel. They've had to learn how to be the adults of the family without their parents. To suddenly have parents now, when they were the ones making the rules, it's got to be hard. It's probably even worse seeing you after so long. It'll get easier."

"Just in time for them to go away," said Piper. Seeing the opportunity to change the subject back to her sister, she asked, "So how are you, really?"

"I miss him," admitted Paige. "I miss him a lot more than I thought I was going to. That day is lot harder to forget than I'd like it to be. I haven't had a whole lot of time to think about it since this morning, but I'm sure I'll get there eventually. That's the point, right?"

Piper would have answered, but she was more than a little distracted by Phoebe's eyes opening. That probably wouldn't have bothered her nearly as much as the bright white light that shot out of them. "Uh, Paige? Did _that _happen the last time?"

"Definitely not," said a very confused Paige. "I would remember something like that."

The rest of Phoebe's body began to glow as if being healed without anyone touching her. Both Paige and Piper had to look away as the light grew. As soon as the light died down, they both reached frantically for their sister, but caught only air as Phoebe sat up with a start, her lungs spasming painfully. She clutched her chest as she tried to catch her breath, slapping away the team of hands that reached to help her out. It took her a moment, but she eventually was able to breathe almost normally. She blinked her eyes to see the owners of all the helpful hands and coughed out, "Hi."

Her resolve finally spent, Piper just sank back in her father's chair, scrubbing her face with her hands. She didn't even bother to hide her tears of relief. Tears caught behind the lump in her throat so that she just coughed a sigh. She closed her eyes and said a silent '_Thank You_' to whatever higher power decided to bring her baby sister back to them.

Excitedly, Paige took both of her sister's hands, fussing over her like she was a child who had taken a bad fall. For her part, Phoebe let her fuss for a moment just so that she could figure out exactly what had happened. After a while, she was starting to feel a little claustrophobic, so she backed her sister off with a squeaky, "Air, People. Needing air."

"Are you okay," asked Paige, backing off only far enough to swipe errant tears from all the coughing from her sister's eyes.

"I think I finally am."

"I don't understand," said Paige. "How are . . . Chris died. We saw you doing it all with him. You said and did everything he did when he was — and we saw everything he did and said when . . . "

"I know." Phoebe gingerly reached for the wound that she knew was no longer there. Her lips pursed together as she struggled to find the right way to tell them what she had just experienced. "Chris and I just needed to have a little chat. We talked it over. Everything's fine now."

Piper immediately asked, "You saw him? Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Phoebe said with great confidence. She held her sister's hand and squeezed hard. "Honey, I swear, he really is okay. He wanted you to know that he has no regrets. He, um . . . He said that all he wants is for us all to be okay. No more spells, he said, especially you, Paige. And he wanted me to tell you that he loves you for staying with him."

"He did?"

"He did."

The sisters sat there for a while, grieving as a family for the first time since Chris's death. They hadn't yet afforded themselves the opportunity, but after Phoebe's announcement, it seemed to be as good a time as any. She told them everything (almost everything) that he'd told her, and even asked a few questions of her own. Then, when they were ready, they silently tucked Chris into their hearts and moved on to the Christopher under their care at the moment like Chris wanted. It took them a while, but Paige and Piper caught Phoebe up on everything that she had missed on her little excursion into Chris's head. Even as they were explaining things, though, they managed to get themselves lost. There were so many holes in what had happened to Piper's sons that they could only explain so much.

"Let's just say that they have a lot of explaining to do when they get back," said Paige.

"Which might be sooner than you think," added Piper slowly. The edges of the doorway started to glow a ghostly white, letting them know that _something_ was going on behind the door. It took a moment, but soon the door opened to reveal the strange black hollow with floating spirit things that never failed to give her the creeps. Still, Piper tried to look just as hopeful as she had the last time they had come through the door. She focused first on Leo (who walked out backwards, still talking to the boys on his way), thinking his would be the most reliable reaction since it was a day that only he would really remember (she hoped). She didn't like the fading tear streaks on his cheeks when he turned around as she greeted him, "Tell me it went better this time and that you learned something that can help us."

"Ask them," said Leo with a frustrated shrug. "Because apparently I'm missing something and they aren't saying what."

Ignoring her husband's cryptic look, she asked her boys, "You found out something?"

"I'm not evil," Wyatt said sarcastically, punching the air with both fists in mock celebration. In the most monotonous voice he had, he completed his short lived reverie with "Yay me."

Without missing a beat, Piper answered, "Yeah, we know that. Who is?"

Christopher took time out of the search he had immediately begun to jerk a thumb over his shoulder at his brother and shrugged. "He is."

"I thought you just said you weren't," asked Paige.

Giving them all an _I Told You So _look, Christopher said quite simply, "He was bodyjacked."

Paige and Piper rolled their eyes in unison, but only Paige bothered to give the gesture words. "By what?"

"Actually, what you mean is, _'by whom',_" Wyatt said in slow jerks, his mind wandering enough that he wasn't concentrating on what he was saying. He had followed Christopher's example and started looking around for the shadowthingwhatever that he knew he should be seeing at the moment, but was growing concerned when it didn't appear to be anywhere in sight. He craned his neck around the room, absently adding, "But hey, semantics doesn't really seem . . . all that important . . . at the moment. Chris?"

"Me neither," the man replied, his focus on the side of the room opposite his brother. He immediately looked for his brother's little self, only to find the empty playpen. "Where are the kids?"

Piper's eyes narrowed worriedly at her son. "I sent them out with Grandpa. He was going to drive me nuts and Wyatt was starting to get a little cooped up with all the playpen time. Why? What's wrong?"

"I'll go," Wyatt immediately volunteered, but Christopher shook his head. "Why not?"

"No way," Christopher said roughly. He looked at his father urgently. "I'll explain everything later tonight. Go stay with them."

Even as he started to orb out, Leo told his youngest, "I want answers the minute we come through that door."

"Christopher," Wyatt started, only to be cut off again, this time by their spirit guide.

"Am I done here, kids? 'Cause I need some food an' I need it now." Christopher quickly crossed the room to shake the ghost's hand. Clyde regarded it strangely, as if he had long forgotten the niceties of living in the living world. He quickly pulled his hand away and wiped it on his grungy coat, lips curled in a sneer. "Ya didn' have to get all mushy on me."

"Thanks, Clyde. We owe you."

"I'll be around to collect in about twenty-five years," the spirit growled happily. Still, oddly moved by the lengths the kid had gone through to find him and all of the things he watched the two kids go through that day, he couldn't help but add, "Aw, Hell. You're good kids. You can put this one on yer old man's tab. It's not like he don't owe me ennyway."

Christopher bowed his head to hide the smirk he knew threatened to pop out on his face as the ghost clapped his hands. Both Clyde and his door swirled back into a tornado that quickly blew out the house, sending paper scraps and potion bottles flying about the room in its wake. As soon as he was gone, Wyatt was at his brother's side, once again wanting an answer to his question.

Wyatt argued, "I should be there. Dad couldn't see him. I still can."

"_No_. I'm not risking it. I need you where I can see you. I'm guessing that, given the opportunity to bypass twenty-odd years of waiting, that sonofabitch won't hesitate to come after you instead of Little Wyatt. Even here, your powers are still in you, just blocked, and that still makes you incredibly powerful. He'll be able to sense that; at least, I'm thinking that he can. I think he was probably feeding off it from Day One. Either way, I'm not taking that chance. I don't want you in the vicinity of either of them until we're ready with some sort of plan. I need answers and I'm betting that you're the only one who has them, even if you don't know it yet."

Still a little unused to getting orders instead of giving them, Wyatt countered tersely, "In the meantime, Little Me is completely unprotected with only Grandpa and a three week old baby to look after him."

Paige interrupted, "Would one of you like to fill us in here, semantics aside?"

"It was Gideon," said Christopher plainly. He watched carefully as his mother and aunt both blushed, looking like they were going to start exploding things in every and any direction. He winced as he added, "Actually, I think it was both of them, from both here and the parallel world."

"That's impossible," said Paige angrily. "The world wouldn't have been balanced again if he was still alive. Your father had to kill him to fix the world."

"Oh, he did," said Wyatt ruefully. "Dad pretty much went all Tommy DeVito on the guy, well, both of them. But then this Gideon guy told Dad before he died that he had no idea what he'd done. I guess that Gideon knew he was going to be able to come back in one form or another."

"That form eventually being Wyatt," added Christopher.

Paige looked positively ill as she argued, "If it was Gideon, shouldn't your father have known?"

Christopher shrugged casually, but he couldn't hide the sympathy in his voice for his father. "It wasn't his fault. Dad was so busy trying to get to Wyatt that he completely missed what happened once he turned his back. I would have, too, if he and Wyatt hadn't started in on each other. It was just luck that I saw him. To everyone but Little Wyatt, it's probably nothing more than a shadow that you miss if you aren't looking right there or something you think you see out of the corner of your eye."

Piper, too, looked like she had had just about enough of all of this. Her eyes darted all around the room, looking for what she apparently was going to be unable to see, even though her son was nowhere near the premises. Her voice was shaking with fury as she turned first to Wyatt and then Christopher. "You're telling me that the sonofabitch who kidnapped you and killed you is still running around terrorizing you? He's with Little Wyatt right now?"

"Day-In and Day-Out until this very morning," said Wyatt bitterly, even though only he and his brother knew what he meant. "I'm a little fuzzy on the mechanics of it myself, but yeah."

Quickly realizing where his mother's thoughts were going to go to next, Christopher said, "Dad went to go be with Little Wyatt. He's safe."

"For how long," Piper quickly asked.

"About eighteen years," grumbled Wyatt under his breath, only to get a hard backhand in the abdomen from his kid brother.

Christopher said to his brother, "Make that six, but I'll explain that later." To his nervous mother, he said, "I think he's safe. At this point, he seems to be perfectly capable of fending off whatever attack Gideon tries. Hence the knives in the walls."

"And orbing you out of the way," eureka-ed Phoebe with wide eyes. "He isn't trying to kill you. He's trying to _save_ you. He thinks Gideon will kill you again."

It was a quick shock for both Christopher and Wyatt when they saw Phoebe sitting up contributing to the conversation. Instead of acknowledging her idea, Christopher blinked and smiled widely at her. "You're okay!"

"Welcome back," added Wyatt.

Phoebe shifted positions on the sofa, realizing that she was really starting to stiffen up from laying clenched in a death grip for hours on end. She shrugged, "You can thank the other Chris for that one. I still don't know exactly what he did, but it worked. I'm not going to question this one. So let's not worry about me and focus on taking care of the two — four — of you. What did you mean Little Wyatt would be safe for six years?"

Christopher winced at the realization that he had said that thought a little too loudly. When he looked and saw expectant looks on the faces of everyone around him, he ran a hand through his hair and sat on the arm of the sofa that his mother and her sisters were now piled on. He looked at his brother, who visibly gulped in nervousness at him, like he knew that he was about to hear something that he really didn't want to. Christopher tried to lessen the blow as he said, "It's just a theory. I'm not even sure that I'm right."

"I want to hear this," said Piper, giving her son the permission he seemed to want to divulge what looked to be an ugly idea in the boy's head. "At this point, all we have is ideas. I'm not willing to discount anything yet."

Confidence only slightly boosted, Christopher nervously tried to fill in the blanks a little bit, even though he wasn't entirely sure he was on the right track himself. Stuttering a little as he thought out loud, he said, "I think that what happened . . . Clyde kept telling us we were blind even before we saw what happened to you a few weeks ago. He said it when we were in our past, when we were . . . older. I'm thinking that _both_ of the Gideons are here and with Little Wyatt."

Wyatt's eyes just about popped out of his head in both surprise and realization. "_What_?"

Calmly, Christopher explained, "Grandpa told me that when the first event happened — you know which one I mean — you started acting strangely. They thought it was just a natural reaction to the thing. I think that, after six years of Gideon being around, it broke you down enough that the Gideon from this world was able to take over. He wasn't powerful enough to completely control you, but he was strong enough that you couldn't get rid of him. And then I think what Clyde saw today, the thing he said we were so blind about, was the evil Gideon from the parallel world finally taking over. We just didn't see it because we were too distracted by the other stuff going on. I'm thinking it took this world's Gideon that long to tap into your powers enough to allow the other Gideon in. He was always there, but he couldn't possess you until you hit a point so low that you stopped fighting the supposedly good Gideon long enough for him to let the other guy in." Realizing that he had been leaving the 'adults' out of his thoughts, he went back to addressing them instead of his brother. His mother looked like she needed a little comfort at the moment, anyway. "Like I said, though, this is all just a guess. I could very easily be wrong. But things are sort of coming together for me, and it's looking like once the two of them were in there, it was all Wyatt could do to keep his head above water, so to speak. He was still fighting it, but he was overpowered. I'll ask Dad, but I think that's what all that flashing in and out of darkness was when we were there today."

Paige was the first to process everything that Christopher was blurting out. As if one piece was still missing, she asked, "So if both of the Gideons are — were — had possessed Wyatt, then where does the evil part come in? Shouldn't the two good — and I say that lightly — _good_ halves have overpowered the evil part?"

He thought about it for a moment, then Christopher suggested, "Even as an Elder, Gideon had probably never experienced the kind of power Wyatt has before. I know that there has always been a big deal made about the prophecy and Wyatt's powers, but it isn't just talk. The kind of power Wyatt has is . . . Well, it's scary. With being so close to death, I'm sure the Gideons were both just overwhelmed by the power. The two of them were both evil, though, really, so the two of them together probably balanced out with the good in Wyatt. The evil was corrupted even further by the power, especially when you add Excalibur in the mix. They just pulled Wyatt, our Wyatt, down and out of the way. I mean, I guess that's what we were seeing when we went through the door. The evil just overpowered the good."

Piper looked over to where Excalibur was resting across the windowseat. She remembered vividly the power corrupting her when she'd first held it last year. It hadn't been intended for her to be anything more than a guardian to it. If it did that to her, what would it have done to someone who wasn't Wyatt? To Christopher, she said, "You told us this morning that Wyatt had told you that there were no such things as Good and Evil. Maybe having the two of them inside him, combined with — Wyatt?"

From the position he had taken a safe distance away from the rest of the family, Wyatt tauntingly heard his own words come back to him as he'd said them a thousand times to everyone around him. _There is no good and evil, only power_. Oh, god. Everything that they had been through, everything that he had done . . . Bodies, everywhere bodies and ash and flames and screams and terror and all of the things that he'd heard himself say were in his control but all he could feel was himself spinning out of control. He heard everything his brother was saying and knew the kid was right. Christopher had been right. He'd been gone, abandoned those who needed him most, those he loved the most, and it was all coming together into such an awful picture and it was. . . it was . . . Gideon and . . . He thought it had hit him before, but now, now it . . . oh, god.

_You. Did. This._

Out of the corner of his eye, Christopher saw Wyatt's face drain of all color as he shivered. Confused, he asked his brother, "Who walked all over your grave?"

Wyatt looked for all the world like he was going to drop right there. Christopher was immediately at his side, steering his brother toward what they had called 'The Squishy Chair' as kids. He tried to guide Wyatt into it, but his brother just fell into it by accident, unaware of where exactly he was. Christopher studied his brother's face as it pinched in on itself while Wyatt struggled to breathe. He kneeled next to the man and soothed, "Slow down. Breathe with me."

They both felt their mother watching them, which only made Wyatt breathe harder. Christopher tried to comfort them both at the same time, leaning Wyatt back against the back of the chair and pressing hard on his brother's chest to slow him down while trying to look over his shoulder at their mother. Casually, he explained without too much detail, "Reality is finally setting in, I think."

Wyatt, in response, threw up quite unceremoniously all over the nearest of his mother's frayed rugs.

"Yep. He's with us," Christopher grinned tightly, trying to fight back his gag reflex. He leaned his brother back once more, his hand on Wyatt's clammy forehead. His eyes closed to near slits in concern, watching as Wyatt continued to hyperventilate and started to shake. To be honest, he was getting scared. His brother used to do this a lot, but it had been years since Christopher had seen it. It had always been their little secret, the thing that they had never told their parents about. It wouldn't do much for their mother's confidence to know that her eldest could be rattled just like the rest of them. Feeling a little rusty at this, Christopher did his best and said soothingly, "Come on. Slow. Down. It's going to be okay. You just have to breathe, Wyatt. Come on. Breathe."

"I — can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Chris . . ."

Slowly, almost hypnotically, Christopher cooed at his brother, "Listen to me. It's just like when we were kids. Listen to my voice. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow down. You have to think about slowing down. I'm here. I'll talk you through it, but you have to work with me here. Take slow, even breaths."

Wyatt only gasped harder, his breaths now coming in short bursts that were starting to become too far in between like he was strangling himself. "You — were right — all — all of it."

"Yes, I was," said Christopher sternly. He sat on the floor, cross-legged, and gestured for his brother to follow suit. When Wyatt did, shakily, the younger of the brothers went on. "Look, this isn't me saying I was right and you were wrong. I don't look at it like that. The thing is, I knew you were gone, but I also knew that you were still in there somewhere. I couldn't hear it in your voice or see it in your eyes, but I could feel it whenever you were close enough. It's just like how Little You knew that Chris was gone. We've always known each other. I knew that it wasn't you who killed those people. Never, for a second, did I believe that you were beyond saving. So if I was right about _that_, then I have to be right about this: you — are — okay. Now breathe."

"I can't."

"What makes you think you can't breathe? Just in and out, Wyatt. That's all it is. You've done much harder things than this."

" — can't — " the man rasped.

Christopher felt the crooked grin take over his face, even though he willed it not to. Besides, if he could get his brother to laugh, it might break up the hyperventilation and force the guy to take a real breath. He rolled his eyes with great exaggeration and asked, "How in the world were you ever the leader of the Underworld when you can't even stop yourself from hyperventilating? Come on, man, what would your subjects say if they could see you punking out like a little girl?"

Frustrated from the lack of air and knowing that all eyes were on him, Wyatt only snapped raggedly, "Kn-nock it off."

Dramatically, Christopher switched gears, pulling out every trick in his book for whenever Wyatt had done this in their life before. "Damn it, Wyatt, _you _knock it off! You're scaring me. Now breathe!"

"I — _killed_ — you."

"Do we really have to go over this again? You didn't kill me. You didn't kill either of us. It wasn't you, okay? Gideon manipulated you. He manipulated all of us."

Wyatt's frustration only grew with his inability to make his brother understand. He tried to hold his breath so that he would have enough to get out what he needed to get out, but he couldn't control it. Wherever that pacifist part of him was, he wished like hell it would come back, but it seemed so much farther away with every stuttered breath. His eyes were starting to feel like they were going to pop right out of his head. "N-not," he wheezed, his head bobbing up and down with his vision. "N-n-not like he d-did me."

"Well, of course not," said Christopher, not realizing what his brother was talking about. Then he caught Wyatt's eyes, even in their twitchiness, and he understood a lot more than he wanted to. "You mean like he did this morning."

"He . . . h-he . . . "

Christopher sighed heavily and closed his eyes, then squeezed his brother's shoulder tightly in understanding. Forget all of the damage that was done when Gideon was in possession of his brother's body. Christopher would never know what seeing Chris dead and begging for help every day of his life had done to his brother. Softly, all he could do was try to tell Wyatt that he would at least try to understand. "I'm so sorry for what he did. But listen to me. I need you to hear me on this, okay? That wasn't me, but I don't blame you for believing that it was. I'm sure Chris doesn't either. You have to know that we would never do that you."

"Chris . . . "

Gently, Christopher smiled at the man who had been his hero his whole life and silently begged Whoever that his brother could find a way to tell him what he needed to get through this. "Yeah?"

"I-I-I d-d-did-dn-t know."

"I know, honey," the younger brother soothed. "I know. It's over now, okay? We're going to stop him this time and it will all be over. Just slow down and breathe before you pass out on me and we'll be fine. Come on. Slow down." Christopher saw Wyatt struggle to collect the breath to say something back but cut him off quickly. "I'm not going anywhere. Okay? Slow down. Breathe with me."

This time, Wyatt seemed to be more reassured and willing to hear his brother. His breath, while short, started to come in stronger breaths so that he was actually getting some air. Some of the red haze started to go away, even though his hands started to cramp up. He closed his eyes, embarrassed to no end when he realized that he had let himself get so out of control, especially in front of his family. Christopher was one thing. He was used to it. The others, though, they would have no idea that he wasn't exactly the mighty king foretold that they all probably expected him to be.

Again his brother seemed to know what he was thinking because Christopher shook his head at him. "Don't worry about them. Stay with me here. We'll worry about them when you start breathing again."

Tentatively, Piper asked from her very concerned perch on the sofa with her sisters, "Is there anything I can get you two?"

In that same hypnotic voice, Christopher answered, "That's okay, Mom. We're going to be fine. Wyatt's going to get this out of his system and we're going to be fine."

It took another ten minutes of coaxing on Christopher's part, but Wyatt eventually settled back down. Christopher had even been stuck with a job he never thought he was going to have to do again, massaging the cramp out of his brother's frozen hands. He didn't mind doing it, but he was sure that was the icing on the humiliation cake that his brother was eating in front of the sisters. In the end, he didn't care, though. He was just glad to have his brother being, well, human again. When Wyatt eventually leaned his head back onto the cushion of the chair and closed his eyes with a nice, slow breath, Christopher took the opportunity to whap his brother hard on the knee.

"Girl," he grinned crazily.

A crooked smile of gratitude graced Wyatt's lips before it turned into a mischievous smirk. "Crybaby."

"Bed wetter."

"Mama's boy."

From the doorway, Piper snapped teasingly, "You say that like it's a bad thing." While the boys had been sussing out their problem, Piper had taken the opportunity to sneak down to the kitchen and pull a quick something together. Forget the fact that Phoebe had been unconscious and the boys traipsing off through time and space, _she_ was hungry. She crossed the threshold, plopping a tray down in front of her no longer unconscious sister. She took in all of her people and asked the group at large, "So we're all okay now?"

Wyatt offered his mother a salute to let her know that he was indeed all right, but couldn't quite manage to form the words at the moment. His throat hurt too much. When Christopher saw the act, he rolled his eyes but secretly smiled to himself. Wyatt had been right: some things in this house never change. To answer for both of them, he said cheerfully, "Yeah, we're fine."

Leaving no hint of wiggle room in her tone, Piper informed them, "Good. Then you can tell us what exactly is going on around here. Back to the beginning, hop to."

Christopher and Wyatt exchanged uneasy glances for a moment, both of them trying to remember exactly what they had said in the last few minutes that would constitute _Future Consequences_. They both understood that their family wasn't going to allow them the room to take care of this problem on their own now, especially with Phoebe no longer incapacitated, but just how much were they going to be able to get by without telling them?

Recognizing the look on Christopher's face the way she would have on Chris's, Paige jumped in to try to help them along. "Why don't you start with the 'we have six years' part. If Gideon is here now, what's so special that's going to happen between now and then?"

The elder brother shrugged, relinquishing the decision to his brother, offering only one bit of advice. "Dad already knows. It can't hurt for them to know, too."

Unneeded permission granted, Christopher said, "Dad died shortly after my sixth birthday when we were attacked by Darklighters. I think that's when Gideon was able to take a real hold on Wyatt, even if the evil part didn't manifest itself until eighteen years from now."

"Eighteen years from now being the day that you went to today, the day I died," said Piper.

"Wait, eighteen years," asked Phoebe, who was obviously very much out of the loop from dealing with her own problems. Without thinking about it, she blurted, "You die in fourteen years, not eighteen. And Leo was alive. The rest of us were dead, but — "

"Not for us," said Wyatt. He glanced uncomfortably at his mother and admitted, "Yes, the day you died. When we were there, everything was normal. We saw things linearly like anything else, until Christopher and I found you dead. We were sitting with you and then everything went black. I think that's probably the point that Christopher is thinking of where this other Gideon was able to . . . possess? me. Is that the word we're going to use here? Possess?"

"Any other ideas," asked Christopher.

"No, that's . . . Just asking. Anyway, the Gideon from this world had the twelve years in between to wear me down enough so that when you happened, he had enough power to let him in." He looked at Christopher again, looking to make sure they were on the same page. "Right?"

On Christopher's nod, Piper asked her sons, "So we have until your father dies six years from now to figure out a way to get rid of Gideon?"

Christopher quickly shook his head. "Not even. The Gideon you knew, he's been with Wyatt since the moment Dad thought he killed him to restore the balance. That much we know. We saw it just now. I don't think he was able to actually possess Wyatt until Dad died, but that doesn't mean he can't do plenty of damage in the meantime. We saw him this — er, this future morning — and what he can do even when he isn't in control."

Uneasily, Piper asked, "Which is?"

Even Christopher looked a little sick at the idea of what he had seen that afternoon, watching the ChrisThing taunt his brother while their sister fought so hard to get him back. He cringed as he explained, "Like we said, Gideon is with him. He's that shadow thing that Wyatt keeps asking about when he's asking 'what's that' all the time. But after what we saw from this afternoon — this morning, whatever — I'm thinking what he's seeing is even worse than just Gideon. When Gideon had him in the Underworld, Wyatt didn't seem to be all that afraid of him. More than anything, he treated it like it was a game. I think what he's scared of now is what we saw this morning after his hold on Wyatt was broken."

This time it was Paige who tried to utz her obviously uncomfortable nephew along. "Which is?"

"Gideon is presenting himself as the other me, the way he looked right after Gideon stabbed him. Little Wyatt probably thinks Chris is still here. Either way, he's probably seeing Chris tell him that he needs help."

Without meaning to be heard, Wyatt grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, "It's the song that never ends."

"Until now," said Piper strongly. "I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen another day."

Feeling much more himself, Wyatt pushed himself up off the floor and started to pace back and forth. He didn't want to be harsh with his mother (ever again), but somehow it came out anyway. "That's a sweet sentiment, Piper, and I appreciate it, but saying isn't doing."

Feigning confidence since it's what Wyatt seemed to need, Christopher said, "We'll get there. I've come too far not to."

"Really," asked the elder brother. "I'm starting to think you were right in the first place. It's hopeless. There are no more answers because there were never any to begin with. You think I can be saved because some prophecy said at one point that I was going to be something special? Open your eyes, Christopher. This is the second time this has happened — that we know about. Maybe this was my destiny in the first place. We don't know otherwise."

"I know otherwise," said Christopher in a small voice.

"He does," added Phoebe. At first Christopher gave her a _'Please Don't Help'_ kind of look until he realized that she wasn't talking about _Him_him, but the other him. To confirm that, she said, "Chris died believing that. Don't tell me that he died for nothing. He wouldn't have let you believe that. He never let us believe it."

Wyatt looked up at the ceiling as if Chris could hear him and hollered at both of his brothers, "Well, then, they're both crazy."

Fiercely, Christopher responded for both himself and the other Chris. "We aren't done yet."

A little more darkly than he meant to, Wyatt snapped, "I wasn't able to fight him for twenty-odd years when I was one of the two most powerful beings on the planet, Christopher, so what makes you think I can do it now, without powers?"

"Who says you have to do it without powers," asked a suddenly mischievous Christopher. He had seen the faces of his mother and her sisters. They were in enough shock at the moment that they really shouldn't be witness to the man who they had been told for the last two years was both the Great Hope and the Ruler of All Evil crumble on them. They didn't need to see another fight. They didn't need to see another breakdown. What they needed was some semblance of an answer. Christopher didn't have answers, but he had ideas, and at the moment, that was going to have to suffice.

Every other person in the room gaped at Christopher like he had finally cracked. "Huh?"

"His powers are here. They just need a little boost," the witch explained to them all. "I only have to figure out how to get them to you. There's a power-switching spell in The Book. That's how Lucy got them from you in the first place."

"What, you mean, borrow my own powers from Little Wyatt," Wyatt asked. "It can't be that easy. No way."

"Why not?"

"Because nothing in this family is that easy."

Paige raised a hand, interrupting. "I hate to point out the obvious, but to switch powers, you would have to have them in the first place. If you don't have anything to give up, you can't gain anything."

Piper added, "That wouldn't have worked anyway. The first time we went to our past, we had to get Prue and Little Me to do the work because we couldn't ourselves. We didn't know we could switch powers, but Mom and Grams would have known. They would have helped us do it if it were possible."

A little deflated but not entirely giving up, Christopher countered, "Okay, so maybe we don't exactly _switch_ them, but there has to be a way that we can get powers just to get rid of this thing. We can't just wait it out and hope to catch him six or eighteen years down the road. I know I'm not waiting that long."

"No one is suggesting that we do," said Piper. "We need to look for options, though. It's not a bad idea. It just needs to go in a slightly different direction."

Not sure that there was any way to argue the boys out of going in that direction, Paige suggested, "Well, why don't the two of you try to find a solution? Piper, now that Phoebe is out of danger, I seriously think the two of you should get some sleep here before things get stirred up on us again. You haven't slept, and if you don't now, who knows when you're going to get the chance again? It will be better for us all if you do."

Phoebe abruptly said, "I'm not sleeping. I've had enough sleep for a while. Let me help."

"I won't be able to sleep," protested Piper. "Not until my entire family is safe."

"We will be," said Wyatt with a set determination that was already becoming familiar to his family. He looked at his aunts then at Piper, just as Leo and Christopher had seen him do in the future. "Regardless of recent circumstances, Christopher and I have been doing this a long time. So have you. You, of all people, should know that we can't just solve a problem because we want to. We can't fix everything in one afternoon. Take a nap, Piper. Really. Have something to eat and take care of yourself. Christopher and I may not be little kids anymore, but the other versions of us are and they need their mother. We'll be okay. I swear, we'll even take the night off and sleep once we make at least a little headway."

It took a little more convincing on the future boys' parts, but eventually they got their mother and aunts to agree to a night off. Wyatt didn't know too much about what had gone on since Christopher's arrival in the past a week ago, but he could see a secret pleasure in all of their faces when the argument was finally settled. They all wanted the down time; none of them was willing to admit to it. That they could relax for even a few hours was going to be exactly what was needed for all. The only one who didn't seem to want to take the night pass was Christopher, but Wyatt had expected that. He would work his brother over later. Until then, he was perfectly willing to let his kid brother believe that he wasn't going to pay any attention to the changes he saw in the kid. He had every confidence in the world that getting Christopher to relax was one battle he was going to win, though, hands down.

Half an hour later, Phoebe came back upstairs from her much-needed shower and called her nephews over to join her at one of the potions tables. "Boys? Can we talk a minute?"

The brothers exchanged a quick, mutually confused look, but didn't say anything in return. They sat around the table with her, both of them careful not to jump to any conclusions. Christopher had warned Wyatt in one of their few moments alone that Phoebe had been a little invasive with her questions since his arrival, but in case that wasn't about to be the issue, they tried to go into the conversation openly.

Soon seeing that they were waiting on her, Phoebe said in a low whisper even though they were quite alone in the attic, "Your sister is okay."

"What? You saw her? How?" came the rapid succession of questions from both men, in random order.

Her hands automatically came up and pressed down on the air, shooshing them so that she could explain. Her smile was bright, glad that she could give her nephews some comfort instead of worries for a change. "She doesn't want you to worry about her. Chris is with her, which, now that he doesn't have me to deal with, he's probably found Grams and Mom and Prue to help out as well. She's probably being smothered by their attention as we speak. She asked him to tell me to tell you that she's all right and not to worry. Christopher, she also said to tell you to pay more attention to the visions. Apparently there's something there that you missed?"

Having been told that one too many times in the last two days, Christopher rolled his eyes in both love and indignity. "She must really think I'm blind."

"Well, you are," said Wyatt before he could catch himself. He couldn't quite explain it, but he had fallen back into _Brother _mode immediately once he'd been freed from whatever power it was that Gideon that they had yet to discover. He didn't want to, but he needed to remind himself that just because he was back didn't mean that Christopher wasn't out of _Enemy_ mode quite yet. Too much had happened. He more than understood after what he'd seen. Still, it was hard not to be that way. Not sure what to say, he apologized. "Sorry. It just slipped out."

"Forgotten," said Christopher. Back to Phoebe, he asked, "What were her exact words?"

"I didn't talk to her. Chris only passed the message on." She startled for a moment, then asked, "Wait. Does Wyatt know about Chris and — "

"Oh, yeah," the blonde man moaned sarcastically. "Both of me know. I didn't realize that I knew until we saw it all happen again, but yeah. It all came back to me. I — Little Me — saw Gideon kill Chris and remembers every detail in Technicolor."

Sadness for her dead nephew fell over her face. Silently she hoped that the younger of the FutureChrises hadn't been listening in on this conversation as she admitted for him, "He was worried that you would remember. He said it was the worst thing he'd ever done to you, to make you see that."

Wyatt looked at Christopher, as if this other version of his brother could offer him absolution in the absence of his other brother. "It wasn't his fault."

Phoebe rolled her eyes fondly. "Of course it isn't, and he knows that. Chris has a billboard-sized flair for the dramatic, that's all. I think that what he was trying to say is that he was sorry that he didn't get to you faster. Chris was good at a lot of things, and feeling guilty is one of them. As someone who has spent far too much time in his head lately, I can attest to that fact." She raised a hand up to the face of her eldest nephew, holding him for the first time since his arrival. Her face was an odd mixture of sadness and understanding as she told him, "He loved you so much." She then took Christopher's hand in hers and said to him, "He is so proud of you. The both of you. I hate to say it, but even with him yelling at me, I've still never seen him so happy as I did when I was there with him. The two of you together, he worked so hard for that."

"We aren't done yet," said Christopher.

"No, you aren't, but you're going to make it. He said he would make sure of that."

Confused, Wyatt asked for the both of them, "What did he mean?"

"I'm not sure, but I'm guessing we'll find out in one way or another."

Tense as ever, Christopher suggested, "Let's hope it's soon because I am running out of ideas."

**III.**

Nearly two hours later, Wyatt knocked on the doorjamb to his parents' bedroom and waited (and secretly hoped) for permission to enter. It had been a long time since he'd had to knock on that door. He thought that one of the kids had eventually taken it over after he'd left them, but he wasn't sure. It wasn't a question he particularly wanted an answer to anyway. Here, though, it didn't seem like a good idea to just walk in unannounced. Too much had happened; too much had been said, even if it had been for the right reason. He had a lot of forgiveness to work off. Barging into bedrooms unannounced probably wasn't going to be the best way to get it.

Leo looked up hopefully. There was a small flinch in his features that Wyatt worked really hard to tell himself wasn't a bad thing or a reflection of who was doing the knocking. Things were complicated enough these days. Neither one of them was going to deliberately make it worse. Leo must have seen the doubt reflected in his son's eyes, because he visibly straightened up and put a spark of sunshine into his face. "Wyatt, come in. It's okay."

Wyatt nodded questioningly in the direction of his mother (_are you sure?_), who was sitting leaning against Leo's chest, watching over Little Wyatt and Christopher without blinking now that they had returned. Just like he knew she would be, his mother had been too worried about everyone to be able to sleep, but she was at least resting comfortably. Rest was going to be better than nothing. He almost regretted disturbing them, seeing them so secretly happy together, but he needed to say this before he lost his nerve and was unable to say it. When Leo nodded his permission to join them on the bed, Wyatt softly cleared his throat to get her attention. "Hey."

"How's it coming up there," asked Piper sleepily.

"It's coming," he hesitated. When he saw that Piper saw his hesitation and smiled at him to continue, he had to clear his throat again to give himself time to search for the words. When he was standing at the foot of the bed, he raced to get the words out, "Listen, I, um . . . There really hasn't been a good time to do this, and it's been such a long day already that I don't want to make things worse, but I needed to say something to you that I don't know if you want to hear or not, especially after what I said to you this morning. I . . . I didn't mean any of those things. I don't blame you for anything that happened. I know that you wouldn't have left us if you'd had any choice in the matter. I shouldn't have said what I said. I couldn't ever blame you. The blame rests with me and only me. I didn't — I don't need any trips through time to know that I've let you down. The things I saw today, Chris dying and the things that happened in my past and all of it . . . I know you must be so disappointed in me. I just need you to know I'm never going to let that happen. Christopher is never going to die because of me. I will never — "

"Shh," Piper interrupted. She took her eldest's hand and pulled him down so that he was sitting at his parents' feet on the bed. "If you were to ask either Chris or Christopher, I'm willing to bet that they both would say that they never blamed you for what happened. Neither of them believed it was your fault. I think Chris might have lost his temper and said something he didn't mean, but he never believed it. Your brothers, both of them, love you. They weren't here to kill you or to destroy you. They weren't here to do anything other than save you. And if that was good enough for them, if they couldn't blame you, then neither can we."

"I just don't understand. I mean, I know why _I'm_ talking to him like no time has passed, but him . . . How can he just talk to me like all is forgiven? You don't even know me, but as soon as he said so, you talked to me like I'm still yours. I don't understand. How do you not let me say '_I'm sorry_'?"

Leo took his turn explaining his sons to Wyatt, almost like he was rationalizing the same feeling he had had about himself at one point regarding his relationship with Chris. "About four weeks ago, Chris and I had a conversation. We were looking through The Book, trying to find the demon that could possibly be after you when he had the first real moment of desperation I had seen in him. We had all seen him frustrated, but not while we knew who he was and never about the family. He was so guarded about the future and what he was doing here. He held on to his frustration like it was the only thing keeping him grounded here. In some ways, I think it was. But that day, we were getting so close, in his mind, to losing you that it was the first time he really talked to me like I was his father instead of just the guy who he had been fighting with since he'd come here. As I was talking to him, he told me about how scared he was because he knew that the deadline was coming, that if he didn't find who had come after you before he was born, it would all be lost. When I asked him why he hadn't told us, can you believe that he said it was because he was trying to protect us? He was so focused on keeping you safe that he couldn't even remember that he was supposed to be the kid. If you had seen the things we had done to each other before I knew who he was . . . Chris had forgiveness in his heart for everyone but himself. The only person who was going to get any blame in any of this was himself if he wasn't successful."

The son stared at his father like he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. "Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"

"The point is that expecting either Chris to do anything other than forgive you and take you back is fruitless. He won't even let you ask for it. It's already given. The most you're ever going to hear about it is what the two of you did when you first arrived. Your brother has a good heart. You're going to have to accept that he's going to do with it what he wants."

"I don't deserve that."

"He thinks you do," said Leo forcefully. "And from what I saw of your life, I have to agree with him. So maybe what you need to be doing then is taking that forgiveness and figuring out how you're going to live your life with it."

Piper eyed Leo with a crooked eyebrow. With a knowing smile, she said, "That's good advice. You should probably take it yourself."

The Elder pointedly raised his eyebrows at his wife and said, "I'm working on it."

Wyatt stood up then, wanting to leave his parents to whatever it was that they had been doing before he'd interrupted them. "I should get back. We might be close to fixing the powers problem and then I'm going to need some time alone with Christopher to figure out how we're going to do this."

Before Wyatt could walk away, Leo said cautiously, "Just make sure that you do talk to him about it."

"What do you mean?"

"I really do believe that everything that happened was because you wanted to protect your brother. That Gideon was able to use that against you is still so . . . It's going to take a while before the two of you figure out what you're doing as a family again. Just like I'm sure it's hard for you boys to remember what it's like to have parents and have people to tell you what to do, your brother has been on his own for a long time now. He hasn't had anyone to make the big decisions or lessen the burden for him. He takes care of people; it's what he knows how to do. That isn't going to change overnight, just because you've come this far. I would tell him this same thing if I thought he would listen, but I know he won't. So I'm leaving it up to you to be the responsible one here. Don't let your need to protect him keep you from listening to him. A lot of things might be different right now if the two of you hadn't inherited the stubbornness from my side of the family. Don't be afraid to listen instead of lead."

Wyatt studied his father, struck by the fierceness of his protectiveness of his brother. He understood why; at least, he thought he did. He'd watched Chris die just a few weeks ago, but there seemed to be so much more to it. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew there was something. Instead of walking out like he wanted to, he asked softly, "What happened?"

Surprised, Piper asked for them both, "What?"

"Something happened with Chris. It's in the way you talk. It's like you're trying to fix something that happened with him that you can't otherwise fix."

Piper seemed to think about it for a moment before she said honestly, "I don't know that we're trying to 'fix' anything, but I'm sure there is a lot of . . . say, 'anticipation' going on."

"Anticipation," Wyatt asked.

"Of repeating past mistakes, I guess."

Finally feeling like he could do something good with his life and his time in his parents' lives, Wyatt said, "Just a hint? Take it or leave it, but maybe you should think about finding a way to separate the two Chrises in your heads. I'm guessing that's why one is 'Chris' and the other 'Christopher', but that apparently wasn't enough. When we were kids, we would catch you looking at us sometimes. It was kind of unnerving, actually. I know about Chris now, but even that doesn't seem to fit with why you looked at us like that. It was almost like regret. It scared Christopher. He thought he had done something wrong, but he never understood what it was that he had done. I asked you once because I thought he should have an answer. All you told me was that you had too many regrets. I know you have a lot of questions about the future. Who wouldn't with all of the things that have happened? But maybe you need to let our future be _our_ future. I know that the two of us being here doesn't help, but when this is over, I really think you guys need to forget about us the way we are now."

"That's a lot harder than it sounds," said Leo.

"Most things are," shrugged Wyatt.

Unsure of what she could possibly say to her son's request — as if she hadn't been trying to find a way to do just as he'd requested for weeks now — Piper suggested, "Maybe we could put off worrying about the future for a while and figure out exactly what we're going to do about the here and now? Because, quite frankly, I'd like to know how we're going to get Little You through the night, let alone twenty-some years."

Wyatt tried to give his mother some hope and direction by saying too cheerfully, "Well, get me some powers that I can use and I'll fix that one up first thing."

"No offense," Piper started. "But — and I think you'll admit that this is a fair question given our circumstances here — are you sure that we should be getting powers for _you_? We know Gideon wants you to be as powerful as you can possibly be. If wearing you down was the key to getting control, I'm guessing that you're pretty much at your breaking point right now with everything that you've been through today. How do we know that you having powers now is going to make things any different?"

"I have to be allowed to fight this guy, Piper. This guy took everything from me, including my own mind. I can't let anyone else do this for me."

Leo looked at his wife for a moment then split his attention between her and his eldest. "I've been wondering — and Piper, tell me if this is impossible — but I think we need to focus on getting both of the boys powers, not just Wyatt. I know you feel this is your battle, Wyatt, after everything that you've been put through, and I don't blame you. I would feel the same way. But I feel that it's something that the two of you need to do together. We'll be there to help you with whatever you need, but I think it's the two of you together who are going to be able to defeat Gideon, no one else. We've been dancing around the idea because none of us really understand what it means, but the two of you are supposed to be the most powerful beings to ever exist. Christopher said that it was said about you that there had never been a being so powerful, not even the Source. Then you let it slip about Christopher and his powers, what he is supposed to be capable of, even if neither of you know exactly what that is. Christopher was right; the two of you are a matched set in so many ways. Maybe this is the time when it's going to be more important than any other."

Secretly, Wyatt liked that idea. He hadn't exactly been relishing the idea of going up against Gideon on his own. He'd fought great evils in his life and always won, but he'd never had to fight the being that had taken his very life from him before. A small smile played on his lips as he whispered to himself, "Butch and Sundance."

Knowing exactly what his son was referring to, Leo said, "Exactly."

"I have no idea what the two of you are talking about, but if that in some way means that you've figured something out, great."

Wyatt smiled at his mother. He knew she knew exactly what they were talking about, but she had always pretended not to know just so that the few men in the house could have their "guy thing". She had learned a lot of 'What Not To Do' lessons in life from watching Grams. Pretending not to see through her, he said, "Christopher will know what it means. That's the important part."

A spark hit Piper's eye as she asked, "Will he?"

"If you want to ask me something, Piper, just ask."

Hesitant to ask for fear of getting the standard response, she asked, "No '_Future Consequences_'?" When Wyatt shook his head and grinned, she asked, "Before all of this happened, were you close? Were you friends?"

"He jumps, I jump," said Wyatt. "Is that futuristically vague enough?"

Piper nodded, beaming. "Good enough. One more?"

"Shoot."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Seriously? You have the chance to ask me anything you want to know, and that's what you ask?"

The smile flickered for a moment before Piper said, "I learned my lesson. The soon-to-be-changed future doesn't matter as much as you. If the little things are all I can get, I'll take them. Favorite color, favorite movie, anything."

Wyatt closed the distance between himself and his mother and pressed a soft kiss into the top of her hair. "Blue. My favorite movie hasn't come out yet from this point in time, but you used to get me to watch your favorites a lot. Dad's, too. Christopher and I could perform every song from every Rat Pack movie they made. My favorite song is always going to be the one you sang to us when we were kids, that one about the songbirds."

Before he could go on to ask if she wanted to know anything else, a distinct ringing invaded his head space. "_Wyatt?_"

"Did you — " asked Wyatt of his father, poking a finger into his ear and shaking it around.

"Forgot what it sounds like, huh," asked Leo. With a positively thrilled grin on his face, Leo said, "He's calling for you — and you can hear it!"

"_Hey, Wyatt_," Christopher called again from the attic with a hint of confusion in his voice_. "Come here, would you?_"

Knowing this time that he was in fact hearing the internal chime that told him his brother was indeed calling for him, Wyatt hooked a thumb over his shoulder and smiled in spite of himself. "He's sounds . . . I guess I should — "

"Go," urged Leo with a wave of his hand and a tickled grin. "Your brother needs you."

"I hope so," said Wyatt and hurried to the stairs, taking two at a time, then quickly crossed the space over to his brother, hoping that his father was right. He needed so badly for his father to be right.

When his brother thundered across the threshold, Christopher didn't even look up as he greeted him, "Hey."

"Okay, I forgot how weird that was to hear." Wyatt tried not to sound too hopeful as he asked, "Did you find something?"

"I didn't," said Christopher. His face was screwed up in frustration as he pulled at The Book. "The Book did, and It won't let go."

"Huh?" Wyatt reached over and grabbed at the pages of the family heirloom but was unable to move any of them. The Book would not allow them to even pick up the edge of another page. It was stuck and there was no getting around it. His face too screwed up in concentrated frustration, his tongue slipping out the corner of his mouth with the effort. Finally the both of them let go. A breeze out of nowhere lifted the pages on either side of the spine, but they did not turn. "What the . . .?"

Christopher stepped back from it for a moment, thinking. He hated to suggest it, but he asked, "Do you think It thinks we're evil?"

"It would have tried to get away from us."

"So what?"

As if to answer their question (and tell them that they were obviously missing the point), The Book slammed shut, only to reopen back to the same page. Christopher rolled his eyes at whichever family member had offered the magical assist. "All right, already, we get the point."

Wyatt studied the page, even more confused. "Valkyries? Why do we need to know about Valkyries? They aren't evil."

"No, they aren't," said Christopher thoughtfully. He raised his voice a little to get the attention of the rest of the family and called to those he knew could hear him. "Dad, Paige? Can you get Mom and Phoebe up here?"

The four adults were almost immediately orbed into the attic space, ready to jump in and help as much as they were going to be allowed to. Once they had assembled, Christopher asked, "Random question. Does anybody have any idea whatsoever why The Book seems to think we need to know something about Valkyries at the moment?"

Immediately they all joined the boys at the podium to find The Book open to exactly where they said it would be. Leo admired the drawing that had been added to the page across from the entry, knowing that face so well. Despite his issues with Freya keeping him locked up in a cage away from his family for so long, she was still a beautiful woman. From what Phoebe had said to him about Chris's enlistment of the Valkyrie's help, he couldn't hate her the way he wanted to. She had helped his son. That counted for a lot with him these days since help was so hard to find.

Piper thought nearly the same thing. Freya could have made it much harder for her to leave their ranks when she did, but she willingly let her go. The goddess had helped her family in many ways over the years, even though she hadn't lived them yet. Whoever was trying to direct them to her probably had a good reason.

It was Phoebe who noticed the amendment to the Valkyrie entry written in Chris's familiar scrawl at the bottom.

_When the time comes that you need their help, you will get it if you ask the right questions._

"Okay, what does _that_ mean," she asked the ceiling. There was no answer, but she figured that was as close to an answer as she was going to get anyway. "Gee, thanks," she pouted.

"There's obviously some reason why we would want to talk to them," offered Paige. "Christopher, you said that they are the ones your dad went to for help in creating the snow gardens, right? They have the ability to create a safe environment so that they can train their warriors without them dying. Maybe it's just some help figuring out how to keep Little Wyatt safe until we can figure the rest of this out? It would be a good distraction for him, anyway."

Phoebe glanced sideways at her sister, surprised and thinking out loud, "What did you say?"

"I was just saying that, since we don't have the snow gardens yet, maybe we can get some help from the Valkyries protecting Wyatt until then. I don't see why we can't save the world from a beach."

"But you said '_distraction_', right? You used the word '_distraction_'?"

"Yeah," said Paige cautiously. "What?"

Phoebe walked away from them for a moment, allowing herself more room to pace and think out loud. "That's what Chris called what they — No, Freya said that. She said she . . . she didn't mind keeping Leo because it was a good distraction . . . She said . . ."

Paige, who was the only sister who didn't know the truth yet, asked, "Chris really was responsible for Leo being sent to Valhalla?"

Leo said quietly, "It's okay. Well, it isn't okay, but it's okay. I'll explain it later." To Phoebe, he said, "Keep going."

"Chris told her something . . . No, _showed_ her something, she said. She said he had shown her something about the future. She knew about Leysa killing you. She let Chris kill Leysa that day, she was part of it. Something . . . something else that Chris showed her. I can't . . ."

Thoughtfully, Christopher suggested, "Maybe we need to ask her then."

Phoebe pointed down at her nephew's scrawl in The Book and asked, "But how will we know what the right questions to ask are?"

Wyatt eyed his aunt, not sure if he should ask the question or not. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while everyone else tried to come up with an answer. It wasn't long before Christopher recognized the movement. It had been a long time since he'd seen it, but he knew when his brother was holding back.

Prodding his brother along, Christopher asked, "You got something?"

"I — "

The younger of the brothers rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We don't have time for you to be shy, Wyatt. If you have an idea, let's hear it."

"It's just . . . Well, Phoebe has been seeing stuff about the other you for a few weeks now, right? She obviously remembers him having a conversation with Freya. So what if Phoebe already knows the answers? It would save us a trip, at the very least." To his aunt, he asked, "Is there anything else you can tell us about Chris? Or the Valkyries? There must be a reason he chose to go to them for help."

As vaguely as she could, Phoebe answered, "He had his reasons for going to her, but they didn't have anything to do with why Chris was here. It was important to him to fix something from his future that he could only go to Freya for, but it was something completely unrelated to you or his trying to save you."

"No offense," said Wyatt. "But are you sure?"

Phoebe thought on it for a moment, her eyes focusing on the floor and trying to replay the conversation with Freya completely in her head. It was slowly slipping from her, just enough so that when she would get to what she wanted, it would fly away from her before she could get a good enough lock on the memory. Slightly surprised, she said, "You know, I don't know. I know a lot, but not as much as I think I do, I guess."

"So we're going back," asked Piper. "But how? We don't have enough pendants."

"You only needed those to remain undetected," offered Leo. "This time, we want Freya to know we're there."

Resigned to their new path, Phoebe sighed. "I'll go down to see Dad and let him know we're on the way so that you guys can get — "

"In the morning," argued Piper. She indicated her sisters and sons, all looking more than disheveled and worn down to the bone. "We've all had a rough two days, some of us admittedly more so than others. We're all getting to be too tired to think straight. We were right before; we all need a decent meal and a good night's sleep." To Christopher and Wyatt, she asked, "Little Wyatt will be safe until then, yes? If we all just take the night off and get recharged, it's going to be okay?"

"If that's what you want, we'll find a way to make it happen," offered Christopher.

Thinking about his answer for all of a split second, Piper said, "It's what I want."

"Then he'll be safe," said Wyatt strongly, glancing at his brother, even though he already knew that Christopher would be in agreement with him anyway. "First thing tomorrow, we're off to see the wizard."

**IV.**

Several hours after everyone had drifted off to sleep for the night, Christopher found himself awake once more from disturbing dreams of his brother and sister. Too chilled to find a way back to sleep, he instead sought out his brother. After a week of hiding out, he needed to be with the only other person who could truly know what his dreams had been about. His father could only know so much. But Wyatt, despite his shaky, holed memory, would understand. Better yet, he would listen. Wyatt had always been a good listener.

After a quick look around, Christopher wasn't exactly surprised to find Wyatt on the patio. It had always been one of his brother's favorite spots to be, rain or shine, noon or three in the morning. He just wasn't so sure about finding Wyatt there at the moment. He didn't exactly know what Wyatt was thinking about these days, even if his brother was back. Still, there he was. It wasn't all warm out even for San Francisco at this time of night, but there he was without even a jacket. Then again, he wasn't one to talk. As usual, he was barefoot, even in the cold. Unable to do anything about it then, he leaned casually against the doorjamb and asked softly, "Couldn't sleep?"

"My head isn't exactly in a sleep space at the moment," said Wyatt without even looking up.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"If you're thinking about nothing, how will you know when you're done?"

Wyatt wrinkled his nose at the smart ass comment, then explained quietly, "No, really, I'm thinking about nothing. I woke up this morning to find out that I've missed seven years of my life. It's all gone and I can't fill in the blanks because there aren't just blanks _to_ fill. I don't remember my own life, not really. There's nothing. And based on what I saw today, I don't know that I want to remember it anyway. I can't tell you how scary it is to realize that your life has happened without you and that you can't take any of it back."

Christopher left his post at the door and sat at the table across from his brother. "It wasn't you. If you need something to make you feel better, though, the thing I've been telling myself a lot, especially in the last week, is that if we do this right tomorrow we won't have to remember it anyway. So maybe you're the lucky one in this. When we destroy Gideon and are able to save you from ever becoming what he turned you into, all of this won't have happened. We know now that the Elders were behind what happened to Dad and then to Mom. When we get that far, we can stop that from happening again. Dad knows. So many things are going to turn out differently."

"You keep saying 'we', but you say it like you mean me. How am I the lucky one?"

"You won't have memories to forget, just in case. If I screw up tomorrow and it doesn't work, if we still remember bits and pieces as we go back home, there will be so many things that you won't have to see."

Wyatt regarded his brother oddly. It wasn't worry or pride or fear. It was almost incredulity. "How is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Unable to answer the question, a smirk played on the younger brother's face. "I was just answering your question. I didn't realize I was supposed to be making you feel better."

"I need to know, Chris."

Christopher was startled by the sudden darkness in his brother's entire being. He'd seen it a little bit when he'd found Wyatt outside, but he hadn't really noticed just how tense his brother was. The complete sadness in his brother's eyes was something that he almost didn't recognize.

"You saw everything I know right now. Please. I need to know what happened to us. I need to know what happened to them. Everything I did — "

" — _Gideon_ did — "

" — Whoever did it!" Wyatt rolled his eyes impatiently. He then stared at his brother hard, blue eyes blazing. "I. Need. To. Know."

Unable to look his brother in the eye, Christopher studied his hands. In a low, resigned whisper, he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"You realize that once you know, you know? I can't take it back. I can't make you forget. As bad as it is, your imagination will probably make it even worse. Can't you take my word for it that you don't _want_ to know any of it? You're so much better off not knowing."

Instead of repeating himself for what felt like the hundredth time already, Wyatt jumped in with a question. He wasn't going to waste hours circling around his brother's uneasiness. He knew Chris was trying to protect him, and he appreciated it, but he didn't need protecting. He was the oldest, not Christopher. Maybe his kid brother had been in the position of oldest for a while, but Wyatt was back and he was going to do everything he could to fulfill his duties. Taking charge, he started, "Was Jack the first?"

"Yeah," Christopher sighed, giving in. "You, um, you'd been acting weird for a couple of weeks, ever since Mom died, but we thought it was because of her. Like I said, Grandpa said you'd had a few weeks after Dad died that you were out of touch with things, too, but that you eventually snapped out of it. I didn't remember, but he did. He said that if we just gave you your space, you were going to be okay. That thing we saw with you and The Book, I'm going to guess that happened before Jack, so probably about three weeks after Mom. When Jack called for me, you sent me away, like you saw. I went and got Paige and Phoebe, but by the time we got back to the club, you were already gone. Paige and I called the Elders, but They refused to heal him. They said we already had a healer and would have to make due with what we had. When we told Them we thought something was wrong with you, the two who had come to us left and They were pretty much out of the picture from then on. Up There was sealed off and that was it. We were on our own."

Christopher waited for a moment to see if Wyatt would have anything to say to that, but his brother only sat there quietly, waiting for him to continue. He could see anger in his brother's eyes, but it was so different from what he'd seen in Wyatt for so long now that he barely recognized it. But still, Wyatt only waited to see what else Chris was going to tell him.

"Things happened that weren't your fault, too. I don't want you to think that everything that happened was because of you — er, Gideon. We all knew you had nothing to do with Jack's death. It wasn't like we suddenly had someone to blame for everything. After Jack, Charlie came to us and offered his help. We didn't know how he knew what he knew or anything like that, but we could tell he was on our side."

"Charlie's a good guy," Wyatt said softly, fondly.

"I wish I knew if that was an 'is' or 'was'," said Christopher glumly.

Dreading the answer to this question as he did so many others, Wyatt tentatively asked, "What happened to him? You asked me earlier, too, and I guess I needed to assume that it was a question in general since he is the only one we left back in our time, like a _'have you seen him since I left_' kind of thing. But it wasn't, was it? I did something to him, too."

"You remember I told you that Dad came and got me from our time, right? And that Lucy was hurt?" On Wyatt's nodded cue of understanding that part, Christopher continued explaining, "Okay. The day I left, Charlie took a Darklighter arrow in the chest. He was still breathing, but then there was an explosion and you telekinetically cut off his air. Things deteriorated so quick from there that Dad didn't let me stick around long enough to find out whether or not he was okay, but it didn't look good. And Grams was blown back into the spirit realm. Just before I leapt into the portal, you — Gideon was torturing Lucy. She was pinned into the wall with a Darklighter arrow. I wasn't going to leave, but Dad . . . It was an ugly day. I don't expect you to remember. I wish I didn't."

Wyatt scrubbed his face with his hands, shaking his head as he pulled them away. His hands clinched into a balled fist while he rested his elbows on his knees. He couldn't look at his brother as he said, "I have no memory of that at all. I sort of remember Dad coming for you, and I think I remember Grams, but they don't seem to be coming from the same day for me. I don't . . . I don't remember any of this."

"It was the day I left, which for me, was a week ago. It was the day of Grandpa's funeral."

"Grandpa _died_?" Wyatt's face paled even more than it already had. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if in physical pain, then opened them again. There were no tears there, but Christopher could see that there wanted to be. Wyatt studied his hands, betraying his confusion. "I mean, I think I knew that. I think I remember even saying something to you about it this afternoon, but I wasn't thinking then. I don't know the half of what I said. I just let stuff come out, whether it was true or not. So I must have known somehow that he was gone, right? But . . . He's dead?"

Christopher nodded, saddened beyond all belief that even the knowledge of their grandfather's death had been taken from his big brother. This was so unfair. Wyatt didn't deserve to have to hear all about his life seven years after the fact. This just wasn't right. Still, Christopher was now more convinced that Wyatt needed to know what had happened. He had earned that much. He tried to be as stoic as he could as he explained, "For you, I guess it was three months ago. Cancer. It was fast, though. We, um, we didn't have a lot of time with him once he was diagnosed. The day of his funeral was the day that we were going to leave. Once he was gone, we had nothing left to stay for, you know? Lu was supposed to come with me. Charlie was freaked out about that, but he wanted her and the baby to be safe. He figured they would be a lot safer here in the past with me than with only him to protect her. Her powers were still so fresh for her that she was doing all kinds of weird things with them."

"I still can't believe she got her powers back. Things must have been really bad if she took them back. She swore she never would. Charlie said he wouldn't let her unless — "

Puzzled, Christopher interrupted his brother's musings. "Why would _Charlie_ keep her from unbinding her powers?"

"Because I asked him to. I know that doesn't sound very fair, but we really did have the best of intentions." Wyatt sucked in a tight breath and held it while he made his decision. When he was able to talk, it was with a hint of sadness that grounded what he was saying in a reality that they hadn't been to yet. "When things were starting to get really bad with Mom and Lu, she stayed over one night and we sat up the whole night talking. She made me promise not to tell, but I don't suppose it can hurt anything now. It wasn't the attack that made her bind her powers. It was the last straw for her, but she said that was the reason because she didn't want us to know why. She thought Mom and everyone would be mad at her for not wanting her birthright. She was eight years old, so I don't blame her. I probably would have thought the same thing."

"What are you talking about?"

As difficult as it was to remember much about his own life, there were things that were clear as a bell. The look on his sister's face was so burned into his memory that he almost stopped himself from going any further, like he was still betraying her trust after her death to talk about it. He rationalized the decision to talk out loud as he said, "When Dad died, I was so lost. I didn't know how I was supposed to take care of you and Mom and Lucy when I was still a kid myself. I relied a lot on Charlie for a lot of things, especially decisions about magic. Mom was in on the decision with us to keep you from finding out about your powers, but when Lu came to me, I couldn't bring myself to tell Mom. She had been so explicit about no one ever finding out."

Christopher knuckled his eyes, finally showing some signs of being less than his usual Marathon Man. He blinked and asked, "This may be a little obvious, but it's been a very long day. You might want to spell this out for me."

"Just like you have powers that we tried to keep you from having to deal with, so did Lucy. Hers wasn't connected to Dad like yours, but she did have a power from the Warren line that she never told anyone about but me. She . . . Lucy could hear people's thoughts, Christopher, and she couldn't turn it off."

He knew he shouldn't be, but Christopher could hear a slight tinge of hurt in his voice as he whistled softly, "She never told me. Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"Do you remember hearing about the time that Prue came in contact with a telepath? It damned near drove her crazy. At the time Lucy bound her powers, it was only triggered when she touched people, but it's kind of hard to avoid touching people, you know? All she had to do was bump into someone at school or on the sidewalk. She knew it was bound to expand eventually, like all of the rest of our powers, and it terrified her. I was thinking about it earlier, actually. After everything we found out today, I'm wondering if maybe the Elders didn't deliberately give her that power early to try to smoke Dad out. Mom always said that our powers would come to us when we were ready to handle them, but there was no way that a little eight year old kid could handle a power like that, even in small doses. The only reason to give her a power like that was to hurt her — "

"Or to hurt one of us," said Christopher slowly. "Which was always her reason for binding her powers in the first place, she said."

Wryly, Wyatt nodded and said, "Apparently martyrdom runs in the family along with everything else."

Choosing to ignore that particular comment from his brother, knowing it was directed right at him, Christopher mused, "Do you think maybe that the thing the Elders were afraid of in me wasn't even a power at all? What if I knew something that I wasn't supposed to know? That would be the easiest way to find out, right? They couldn't read my mind, but They could get my little sister to do it."

"Especially if They didn't know where the other Chris was," Wyatt thought out loud. "If Dad removed him from the ghostly plane without telling Them, They would have thought Chris just misplaced or lost. The snow gardens were protected from all outside beings, not just demons. They wouldn't have been able to detect him there."

"They might have assumed that he had joined with me, too. They had no way of knowing what happened to him once he fell off Their radar. They would have thought that she could read my mind and get his."

Wyatt sat back in his chair a little, amazed at the lengths their minds were going to. "If any part of this is true, it's no wonder They would be afraid of you. Putting your powers aside, if you either A) joined with Chris to become one soul again or B) he had told you about what had happened to him, that's a lot of information that They wouldn't want you to have. And with your powers and mine, They'd have to be afraid of us ever finding out about Chris and Gideon. They have to know that the two of us are capable of taking Them all out without breaking a sweat."

"They had to know that we would find out sooner or later, especially with Them lording my safety over your head."

"Yeah, but how much further could They really go to keep us from finding out? They already took Dad and Mom from us. It's not like we had anything left to lose."

Christopher laughed nervously. "Okay, see, we have to stop this right now because I'm trying really hard not to be paranoid here. It's bad enough that we know that They have been screwing with our family since before I was born, not counting when Mom and Dad were trying to get together. I don't want to be paranoid about stuff that we don't know for sure isn't true. We have enough problems with Them as it is. If They _did_ give her that power, though, I . . ."

"The night Lucy told me about her powers, it was not quite a year before Mom died. It was right about that time when things started getting bad for me with the Elders, too. After she told me, I asked Charlie to see if he could find out if They had anything to do her getting that power so early. He couldn't find anything out. If you could have seen her face when she was telling me about the things she had heard before she bound her powers, you would have come to the same conclusion I did. To be safe, Charlie and I agreed that we would keep her from unbinding her powers for as long as we possibly could. Maybe she would have grown into them eventually, but I didn't think it was worth the risk. I had that power for just a few minutes today and it was awful. I don't —- Let's just say that if Prue couldn't handle it, I didn't want to see what it would do to Lucy. She got too much of the pacifist part from Dad. It would have killed her. Not that I think the Elders are even remotely pacifists anymore. Manipulating fakes, sure, but definitely not bystanders, to say the least."

Giving credence to their working theory, Christopher said roughly, "In the interest of full disclosure, you should know that They've contacted me twice since I got here a week ago. They definitely want something."

"Does Dad know?"

"I think so. I felt him sensing for me during one of the contacts. The guy was gone before Dad got there, though. I didn't want to worry him, not after what he'd told me about Gideon taking you, so I just left it alone."

"Yeah, that was dumb," Wyatt groaned.

Christopher shrugged, not nearly as concerned as his brother was, even though he knew he probably should be. To keep his brother happy, he acknowledged, "Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I guess. Do you think we should tell Dad about all of this? I mean, if we do, we could screw up our lives even more than they already are, because I have _no_ idea what he would do if he heard what we were just talking about. He's pretty out of his head these days, not that I blame him."

"He's been gone for almost twenty years. How much worse could it get?"

The brothers looked at each other then, the implications of _What If_ depressing on them both like a huge weight. They both followed the question to its logical conclusion. Unintentionally, they both said the same answer at the same time. "A lot worse."

That was it. They needed a distraction and they needed it fast. Christopher huffed a worn breath and rubbed his hands over his thighs to warm them up. "That's it. I need a drink."

"It's three in the morning, pal. The liquor store is closed and they didn't keep alcohol in the house for Paige."

"But the club is always open," the younger brother grinned mischievously. "Any requests?"

"Something liquid and stupid."

"I'll be right back." Christopher orbed out and back in a matter of two minutes, tops. When he returned, he found Wyatt exactly where he'd left him but bearing glasses, a cutting board, one of their mother's best knives, and three lemons. He smiled when he saw the spread and held up two bottles of tequila and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black.

"Mom won't be happy when she hears that's missing," said Wyatt, pointing to the scotch.

Christopher shrugged. "It's not like I grabbed the Blue, and it's for a good cause." He presented a bottle of aspirin he'd grabbed from the back office and plucked it down in the middle of the table with a bottle of water. "So are these."

With that, the brothers dove head first into a hangover. The conversation turned light for a while, talking about their childhood and high school and anything random they could think of that had happened before Wyatt had left them. For a while, it was like they were kids again, sneaking booze and daring the neighbors to call their parents to tell on them. For a while, it was easy to forget that anything had happened at all. After an hour, Christopher had done enough shots to forget a lot of things.

He played trombone with his watch there for a second, unable to read the hands through the fuzzy. After a concerted effort, he gave up and patted his brother floppily on the shoulder. "Shouldn't you be getting home? It's okay with me if you want to stay in my room, but don't tell Mom it's because we were drinking. I'll be feeling bad enough in the morning."

Wyatt set down the shot he was thinking about taking. He stared at his brother until Christopher shook his head at him.

"What?"

"Chris, come on."

Realizing his drunken mistake, Christopher poured himself another shot. He picked his up and handed Wyatt his. He raised his glass in salute. "Behold, the healing and amnesia-inducing powers of ta-kill-ya. Too bad it can't make us forget everything or heal anything at all."

"Chris."

"Don't," snapped the younger brother.

"Don't what?"

Christopher slammed his shot and reached for the bottle. Wyatt grabbed for it as well, but Christopher yanked on it until he was able to get it away. He mumbled through his lemon slice as he poured another shot. "I don't want to talk anymore."

"Talk about what?"

Spitting out the chewed lemon, Christopher glared at his brother. "I hate you for asking. Why did you have to ask?"

"About what? About what happened? You don't think I should know?"

"No, I don't. I don't think any of you should know any of anything. It — it worked for the other me. I don't know why you guys can't let that work for you. Here, I'm saying it. _Future Fucking Consequences!_ Now you can't ask. And I won't listen if you do ask. Your time limit on answers expired when I went the bar. You don't get to ask anymore and I'm not telling. Just shut up and drink your drink."

Wyatt watched his brother quietly, but turned his eyes away when Christopher stared right into them, hard. He stared up at the stars so that Chris couldn't see his face. "What did I do to us?"

"I told you, stop asking questions."

"No. We've talked a lot about what I did to everyone else, but I know something happened between us. You're too mad at me at the moment for you to not be hiding something. What is it?"

Quickly sobered, Christopher tried to sound as matter-of-fact as he could about the day, as much as it had hurt him. He didn't want Wyatt to know just how bad it had been for him that day. Things were rocky enough. He angrily explained, "Of all of us, I think I had it pretty easy. Charlie and I came home from finding out you had destroyed Sanctuary to find you and Lucy talking down in her room. She was crying. When the two of you saw me come in, you got up and walked out without saying anything. I followed you upstairs to the kitchen and we had a really long talk where you did most of the talking. You told me about how things were supposed to be and how you didn't believe that we could help you. There is no Good or Evil, blah blah blah. There was a lot of talk that just didn't sound like you. You, um . . ." His rant started to slow down a little as his anger ebbed with the buzzing in his ears from the alcohol. He gulped hard, fighting a wave of nausea that could have come from any number of places. Wyatt waited until he was able to go on again, letting Christopher get his say. "You begged me to come with you. You said that if you walked out of the house alone, you would never be coming back and that you would be walking out my enemy. We fought pretty much the same way we fought this afternoon. A few minutes later you walked out, but not before you stood in the doorway and used that nifty telekinetic power of yours to choke me until I passed out. That was pretty much the last time I saw you until the day I came here. I saw a lot of your minions, and we'd hear a lot about you, but you were gone. Anyway, Grandpa found me unconscious and bloodied up from head to toe. ' freaked him out. He thought I was dead. The, uh . . . the next day, I started taking out your people one by one, or as many as I could get at a time, and you grew more and more paranoid as the months went on. You were constantly sending demons over to the house. There were alarms everywhere inside that would tell you if we'd used magic. You turned the house into a prison, basically." Christopher stopped for a second when the light of the moon caught a tear running down his brother's face. "See why I didn't want to spoil a good drunk? We were doing so well earlier."

Not nearly as drunk as his brother and determined as ever, Wyatt just asked, "I know I did something to Phoebe. I know I killed her. But what did I do?"

"Stop saying 'I' because it wasn't you. But yes, Gideon killed Phoebe. He drowned her after he was done with her. That much we know. Charlie knew what it was that 'you' were looking for, but he wouldn't tell me. He said that it was important that I didn't know what it was that you wanted from her. Looking back at it, especially after what I saw today, I think I probably should have questioned him more, but he always seemed to be so . . . I don't know if 'loyal' is the right word, but there was always something about him that told me I should trust him. I guess I know now why. From the moment he showed up in the attic, I trusted him. Sam and Lu did, too."

Wyatt was happy to actually know something that Christopher didn't at the moment. He was admittedly starting to feel a little overwhelmed, even though his brother had warned him about asking too many questions. "You've actually known him most of your life, you just didn't know it. He was assigned to us kids not long after you were born. He didn't really make himself known to anyone but Mom and Dad. They even managed to keep it a secret from Phoebe and Paige. We were his first assignment. He had no idea what he was walking into with the situation between Dad and the other Elders. He managed to talk Charlie into being on our side, not that it was all that hard a sell once he heard everything Dad had to say."

"How did you find out about him?"

"I caught him and Dad talking one day. Charlie was telling Dad that the Elders weren't going to help the sisters with a demon they were fighting, so he was going to go to the Underworld to see what he could find out for himself." He chuckled to himself and added, "You and I had been playing hide and seek. They found me hiding under one of the potions tables. Well, I wasn't exactly hiding. I sort of jumped out to say I wanted to come along and help. If he wasn't dead already, I would have given Dad a heart attack. Charlie, too. I don't remember what came out of it, except that he was really beat up there for a few days. I'll say this for the guy, he's fearless. I think that's why Dad liked him."

Christopher snorted instead of laughed. A crude look came on his face as he said, "That's why Lu liked him, too."

"I'm sure she — _what_?"

"She — _heh_ — after I punched him out the night she told me she was pregnant, he started giving me this whole speech about how he — "

"He what," asked Wyatt dangerously.

Realization dawned on Christopher. He hiccuped as he laughed. "You do remember she is pregnant, right? Her, him, and baby makes three? With six you get eggroll?"

"_Charlie_ is the father?"

Again, Christopher laughed. "You didn't know?" Wyatt just gave his brother a look. The younger shoved another drink at the elder and again saluted. "To Charlie and Princess Lulabelle. May they now annoy the Elders as much as we do and more!"

Wyatt eyed his brother protectively and confiscated the bottle. "Maybe you should slow down, little brother."

"Or maybe I should just start drinking straight from the bottle. It beats anything else you might have been planning to do tonight."

"If you say so." Wyatt poured himself another shot and offered a much smaller one to his brother as well, but Christopher pointed to the scotch instead. As the elder brother poured his kid brother a drink, he asked, "So what were you doing up, anyway?"

Christopher shrugged. "I don't sleep much these days. The house is too quiet . . .' has been for a long time now."

"Liar," said Wyatt immediately, knowing much better than that. He handed Christopher his drink quietly and waited. When his brother didn't exactly deny the accusation, Wyatt took a wild stab and asked, "It must have been a little weird to watch yourself die once, let alone twice. That would be enough to keep me up all night. It certainly would make me want to drink."

"I don't drink. This is the first time I've had a drink in a long time. Definitely since Lu got pregnant. And he isn't me," said Christopher. At the thought of the other Chris, Christopher drew quiet. As soon as the image of himself (sort of) lying there with that blade in his gut, he slumped in his chair. Shakily, he said, "That's what I've been telling everyone all week. _He's . . . _not_ . . . me . . ._ And I suppose that's close to the truth. I mean, I'm two years older than he was. According to Grandpa, I had Mom for four years longer than he did. And I had at least something of a relationship with Dad, which is something I guess he didn't have until three months ago. Paige, I guess, died before he was even born. In the long run, I am a lot luckier than he was."

Softly, Wyatt prodded, "I hear a 'but' in all of that."

"Whenever we were at Sanctuary, I always felt this weird connection to him. I had no idea why or even what it was. It was just a feeling. I knew he was sad. I'd catch him looking at you sometimes; I don't know. I guess he could never shake the fear. I know Phoebe says he's fine and that no one should worry about him, but I saw him. He never stopped worrying about you. He died to save you, and even after that, he still didn't stop."

"And you're worried that that will be you?"

"I'm not afraid to die."

"That's not what I mean, although I really should give you a good smack upside the head for saying that."

Christopher folded his hands behind his head and pulled down, stretching his back. "Maybe. I . . . I'm _not_ him."

"But you are," said Wyatt, finishing his brother's thought, even if Christopher wasn't going to say it out loud. "And you're scared."

Weakly, the man seemed to shrink under his brother's gaze. Suddenly, he wasn't alone anymore. He truly wasn't the one in charge anymore. He wasn't the oldest anymore. He felt a little selfish admitting so, but he was happy to relinquish that crown for the remainder of their trip. He wanted his five minutes. He wanted his place back. He studied his drink intently as he admitted, "Maybe. I don't know. I'm just so tired. I can't remember the last time I — I'm so tired. Everything is so heavy. It's him, it's me, it's all so . . . so . . . I'm not ready to die."

Wyatt felt his half of the responsibility being passed back to him, even if he didn't realize it. They were back. There were just certain things that went with that. He would never complain about that, certainly not ever again. His eyes searched out his brother's, and when they found each other, he infused them with all of the confidence that he knew he used to have. Truly feeling back in big brother mode again, he said, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You know that, right? We're going to get through this. We're going to have that future that the two of you worked for."

"Okay," said Christopher softly. He didn't ask for promises. He wasn't going to let himself get too sentimental or need his brother too much yet, but he was pretty sure that Wyatt already knew that. They sat quietly for the next hour or so, side by side, and watched the moon float across the sky little by little. They didn't need to talk anymore. They were happy just the way they were. Eventually, they brought the wicker sofa out onto the patio where Christopher stretched out, his head on his brother's lap, safe for the first time in a long, long time. His kid brother so was tense that Wyatt could actually feel it coming off Christopher in waves. As his brother fell asleep, Wyatt whispered down to him. "This time it's my turn to save you."

"Hmm . . . don't need . . . saving."

"Yeah, you do. Just go to sleep. I'll wake you up when it's time."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll keep watch. It's okay. You're safe."

" 's been . . . so . . . hmm . . . so long . . . "

"I know. Now be quiet."

The sky was starting to grey an hour or so later when they were disturbed by their concerned parents at the door. Piper stood in the doorway, blanket wrapped around her, and Leo behind her, holding her free hand. There was no disguising the Mom in her voice as she asked, "What are you two doing out here? It's freezing!"

"Shh," whispered Wyatt as Christopher's head nodded tiredly on his thigh. He smiled down at his brother then looked up at his parents. "What's wrong?"

"We didn't hear Christopher come back up," said Leo. When Wyatt gave him a confused look, he added, "We saw him get up. He's been sleeping on the sofa in our — your mother's — room this week."

"If you could call what he's been doing 'sleeping'," said Piper. She smiled at the sight of her two boys sitting on the cold furniture together, each wrapped in a blanket themselves. She reached down and pulled some of the hair off her younger son's face. "I can't believe you got him to sleep."

Simply, Wyatt shrugged. "He needed it . . . You didn't answer my question. Is something wrong? Is Little Me okay?"

Leo guided Piper to one of the chairs and helped her sit down in her bundle of blankets. Her incision had been pulled a little too much in the last week and wasn't healing as much as they would have liked. Leo would have healed it for her if she hadn't needed to have it available for the doctor to check on when she took Baby Christopher in for his appointment next week. When she was comfortable, he took the chair next to hers. Wyatt waited patiently while his parents settled down until Leo was able to start explaining. When he did, it was casual, as if his future children blew into his life on a regular basis.

"We were looking for the both of you, actually. I told your mother about what we saw in your past today. I thought she should know."

Piper added sadly, "I'm sorry about your sister. She was obviously special to the two of you."

"She is."

Piper shivered under her blankets, causing her teeth to chatter. She glanced at the lemon rinds and empty bottle of tequila then at her son as she asked pointedly, "And how are the two of you?"

"Figuring things out, I guess," said Wyatt. "It's all kind of confusing. It's better than it was when I first got here, but there's still so much that doesn't quite fit into place. Christopher is correcting himself a lot. I can tell he wasn't exactly prepared for what it would be like when he actually succeeded in curing me or whatever it is we're going to call it. I think maybe he was so focused on the Getting There part that he forgot about what he was going to do once he was there, you know?"

"But at least you're there," said Leo. "That's worth something. Give him a chance to catch his breath. He's been through a lot to get you here."

Wyatt looked his father sadly in the eye, both of their minds obviously thinking of the same things. "I know."

"Did the two of you manage to sort anything out while you were _freezing your butts off_?"

The man laughed at his mother, amused at her lack of subtlety. "Gee, do you want to go inside, Piper?"

"_Mom_," she corrected him and then nodded emphatically. "And yes."

Wyatt's hand started down to shake his brother awake, but their father stopped him before he could get that far. "Let him sleep," said Leo. With a wave of his hand, they were all orbed into the warmth of the living room, with Christopher and Wyatt still in position on the indoor sofa.

Piper smiled gratefully at her husband, even if it made her a little sad. "Nifty. We won't be doing that much longer if They have Their way."

"What do you mean," asked Wyatt.

"The Elders," said Leo, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

While still trying not to reveal his motives just yet, Wyatt asked, "How bad is it? I mean, obviously what I saw today was bad, but They can't seriously blame you for what happened?"

"We don't know what They're thinking because your father won't talk to Them," said Piper before Leo had a chance to refute her.

Wyatt looked at his father, not caring that he looked and sounded all of ten years old as he pleaded, "Dad, you have to talk to Them. Please."

Petulantly, Leo crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, unable to look at either of his sons, afraid that he would give away too much if he did. "To be honest, there is nothing that They could say right now that I would be interested in hearing. I seriously doubt that any of you kids missed anything in your lives by Their absence."

"No, we didn't miss Them, but They definitely missed you. They aren't going to stop coming for you until it kills you. You know that." When Wyatt saw the guilty look pass over his father's face, he knew he at least had the angel's attention. As much as he already knew he would regret the decision as soon as his brother found out he'd said anything, Wyatt pulled the trigger on the one thing that he knew would keep his father's attention. "They've already come after Christopher since he's been here, twice. I don't trust Them not to again. And we're lucky right now that They don't know about me being here. I don't want to know what's going to happen if They find out I'm here, not after all the trouble They went to to get rid of me in the first place. And don't say that it was just Gideon, because you and I both know that there are plenty of Them Up There who agreed with him. You saw Them."

Everything that Leo had been avoiding dealing with in the last few weeks had been wrapped up in one very fixed idea, that the people he had trusted the most had kidnapped one son and murdered the other. It didn't matter to him which ones of his colleagues were in league with Gideon and which ones weren't. They were all responsible. They were all there, day after day, treating his son like he was about to explode any second and destroy the world. How was he supposed to trust Them ever again? How could he trust Them to give him a fair hearing at all, especially now with his knowledge of what They were going to do to his sons in their future? Helpless, Leo said, "I can't."

"Leo — " Piper started, only to be cut off once again.

Directly to Wyatt, Leo asked, "Do you understand what you're asking me to do?"

"I'm asking you to save your family," said Wyatt strongly before he even knew what he was saying. It had been a long time since he'd done it, but he remembered well the conversation he had had in his head with his dead father for so many years every time that Charlie had asked him what he would say if he could. "I'm asking you to remember what it is you saw today when you saw me with the Elders. This may sound selfish, and I suppose it is, but I'm asking you to keep me from having to make that decision. I'm asking you to keep me from having to make a deal with Them when I'm a kid. I'm asking you to set us free from Them for good."

Knowing that Wyatt did at least have a point, one that he himself had made to himself in the last few hours, Leo said indefinitely, "I'm working on it. I can't go Up There until I know that I have all of the pieces and cannot in any way be taken away from you boys ever again. Give me the time to find the right solution." A prick of ice hit the back of his neck, forcing Leo to add, "Until that time comes, I don't want either of you to leave the house. Can you do that for me?"

"We're coming with to Valhalla, but after that, yeah, we'll stay here," agreed Wyatt.

"Speaking of which . . . " Piper gave her eldest a pointed look. "Did the two of you accomplish anything besides demolishing two bottles of perfectly good alcohol that I _will_ find a way to charge you for?"

"We came up with a lot of theories that I don't think you want to hear about, but no plans to speak of. I think we're getting a lot closer, but they're still only ideas. We can't know yet if we're even right, let alone ready to move on to a planning stage." Wyatt looked down at his sleeping brother and smiled. "We had other things that needed saying."

Their mother gave him a ruefully cocked eyebrow before she shrugged at him. "Well, at least you didn't break any bones doing it this time. Are you okay?"

"He was right this afternoon: there really isn't an '_okay_' here. But we're trying to be us, which, you know, we'll see. It's going to take a while . . . Unless, of course, I screw up again and all of this blows up in our faces. I'm not holding my breath."

"What do you mean," asked Piper.

Wyatt asked his father, "How much did you tell her?"

"About . . . " asked Leo.

"What we saw today in my past." When Leo rolled his hand around in a circle, Wyatt elaborated, "Okay, more specifically, what happened between me and the Elders?"

"Only that you were trying to protect your brother but things went badly. It was out of your control."

"Let's just say that, had I known then what I know now, I never would have risked any of this. But I was arrogant and desperate and — "

"Taking care of your family," finished Leo, not letting his son take any more blame than was necessary. "What's done is done. You did your best with what you had. Now you need to let us help with the rest. So what do we do we need to know?"

While his brother slept in his lap, Wyatt quietly explained some of what he and Christopher had come up with. As hard as he tried, he and his father were unable to keep the details of Piper's death from her. The Elders' involvement soon became integral to Leo's thoughts as well as he listened to Wyatt talk about things he remembered being told over the years. Piper's face remained impassive as they talked about the daughter that she had yet to know and the powers that may have been used against her and her sons. By the end of Wyatt's explanation, there was no doubt in any of their minds that the Elders had turned against the Halliwell family.

"They may think They have the right and good behind Them," said Leo vehemently. "But I . . . Well, your great-grandmother may be right. There may be a deal there to be made."

"We aren't making any kinds of deals with Them until we know what we're going to do about Gideon," said Piper angrily, even through a yawn. She had wandered around while they were talking and found herself somehow drawn to the snow globe that they had put in the place that Christopher had told them it had been for so long. She ran a hand over it lovingly, letting everything wash over her. The weight of it made her want to cry, but as always, she knew she didn't have time to cry. Her sons — all of them — were in danger. One had already paid with his life twice.

Wyatt watched his mother carefully, seeing where she was stopping her pacing. "Mom?"

Knowing that everything she was feeling at the moment could be summed up with one simple thing, she took the snow globe from its shelf and walked over to her men. She handed it down to Wyatt and said darkly, "Before we do anything else, I think we need to call up whatever reinforcements we can get, not just the Valkyries. If the two of you are right and this has something to do with both Chrises, I'm not taking the chance that They would hurt Chris Up There. We need to summon Grams and Mom and Prue and whoever else we can get here, screw the rules. I want them both protected around the clock until this is sorted out. They have both been through too much. You all have."

Wyatt hefted the weight in his hands, admiring it with awe. "I can't believe it. How did you get this?" Before his mother could answer him, his mind locked on the inscription on the bottom that he didn't even have to see to know by heart. His voice was hardly a whisper as he answered his own question, "Chris. Wow. That makes so much sense now."

"See? Not everything is lost yet," said Leo, nodding at the snowglobe with loaded meaning. To Piper, he added, "But you're right. We need to make sure he's safe before we go after Gideon. He didn't have that kind of power on his own to come back. Someone Up There was helping him to come after Wyatt."

"Or someone Down There," suggested Wyatt distractedly. "Besides Barbas, I mean."

Leo saw the thoughtful look on his son's face and, while he wasn't exactly familiar with this boy's range of expression, he knew his brother well enough to know when one of them was thinking about the future and its consequences. Prodding, the angel asked, "Someone in particular you're thinking of?"

Slowly, Wyatt worked his thought out as he said, "Well, I'm just wondering . . . When Lucy pulled me out of there this morning, every Darklighter under the sun practically showed up to take us on. Christopher told me earlier that whenever I've orbed in the last few years, it's been with black orbs. We know that the Gideon from the parallel universe used black orbs, right? I'm just wondering if maybe he has been getting a little help from them. I mean, we don't exactly know what happens to Elders when they fall, do we? Unless you know something I don't, it's never happened. They certainly have never lost an Elder to evil like They lost Gideon."

"I'm not going to discard any theories at this point," said Leo. "I'm starting to think that I know even less about Them than I thought I did, which wasn't much yet to begin with."

Ruefully, Wyatt looked down at his sleeping brother and said, "I know the feeling."

In his own way of letting Wyatt know that he now saw the man as his son, Leo said softly, "Things happened so fast today that I didn't have the chance to tell you something that I think you need to hear, Wyatt. When we were in the black, I could sense you thinking something, something that I think you have managed to think the entire time you were under it, not just today. It's something that I think needs to be corrected now, before we go any further. Look at me." The angel waited until his son's eyes locked on his own before he continued, wanting to be sure that the boy understood that there was no lie in his heart. "You need to believe me when I tell you that, after what I saw happen the day your mother died, I in no way whatsoever blame you for what happened to your mother. I don't blame you for being lost. I don't blame you for what transpired in the time that you were lost."

"Dad — "

"No arguments. What happened was not your fault, Wyatt, nor is what happened to your brother. You don't seem to want to hear it from him, but you're going to hear it from me. You were two years old. What happened to your brother was no one's fault but Gideon's. I saw what Gideon has done to you since that day, the things he's said to you. If you're going to fight him, you need to know in your own soul that you are not responsible. He has held that over you for long enough. You are never going to be able to defeat him if you continue to believe that you in any way hurt Chris or caused his death. Do you understand?"

Still looking doubtful, Wyatt said, "Give me time."

Unhappy to admit so, Piper winced, "You may not have it."

"You need to know it, if not for yourself, for Christopher," added Leo, even though he knew that it was just as much a guilt trip as what Gideon was doing. This, however, he told himself, was at least taking it in the right direction. This was motivation, not guilt. "We all believe it. It's your turn."

"Mind over matter, huh," asked Wyatt.

"Something like that," Leo said. "We need you."

Wyatt merely nodded his acknowledgement of that notion. They all needed a lot of things, and none of them were going to happen unless his genius kid brother came up with one of his out-of-thin-air brilliant plans to get them some powers. Not that he would mind spending some quality time in the past. He had missed having parents and aunts and a life that didn't depend on him making the right decision at any and all hours lest there be grave world consequences. Part of him wished he could stay here permanently in this life where only his brother knew exactly what he had become and where his family had welcomed him back into the fold, treachery forgotten. Back where he belonged, there was no one left to forgive him. There was only certain death and an eternity of damnation. He liked it here. Here was good. He didn't care if he sounded all of ten years old when he thought about it. Here was good.

Still, there was something to be said for too much family time after going without for so long. Unable to look either of his dead parents in the eye any longer, Wyatt stretched and faked a yawn. "All right, this is getting a little too sweet for me. You guys should get back upstairs and get some sleep. Everyone else will be up before you know it."

"I'm up," countered Piper, even through a yawn herself. "You guys go ahead. Paige fell asleep in the attic, Wyatt, so if you want her room, it's probably free."

"Nah," disagreed Wyatt. "But if you want to help me with Sleeping Beauty here, I think I hear the shower calling my name. Are there towels downstairs or do I need to take one down?"

"Downstairs?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes at his own mistake. "Sorry. I forgot you haven't finished the basement yet."

A few minutes later when Wyatt was in the shower, he forgot a lot more than the floorplan of his family home. He stood under the hot water, wishing that it was actually possible to wash away the grimy feeling he had crawling all over his skin as wave after wave of reality hit him. As he had the afternoon before, he panicked so hard that he hyperventilated to the point of vomiting. It wasn't until the water started to run cold that he was able to regain control over his emotions and the silent sobs that wracked his body. Even though he had finally started to believe his brother and his parents, that voice was still in his head, picking away at every ounce of control he had.

_You did this._

_They will all die because of you. It's only a matter of time._

"Shut up," he muttered into the steamed mirror. "Get out of my head."

It wasn't possible, not physically, but Wyatt still felt Gideon in his head. He even looked behind himself to make sure that the Gideon that was part of this time hadn't left his little self to follow him. He didn't think he saw anything, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that, dead or alive, that voice was still in his head, stripping away all of the work that Christopher had already gone to to keep him safe and grounded.

Furiously, Wyatt smashed his hand into the mirror, once again screaming, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Immediately, Leo's voice chimed in the young man's head, asking in concern, "_What's wrong?_"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Wyatt said into the air. All he got in response was a very doubtful chime back in his ear. "Really, Dad, I'm fine. Nobody here but us chickens."

Despite the protests, Leo was there, knocking on the door to check anyway. "Wyatt, open the door."

Doing as told, Wyatt opened the door without thinking about it. The concerned look on his father's face grew even darker when he saw his son. Confused, Wyatt asked, "What?"

Leo's hand gestured up and down, indicating his son's naked chest. "I just . . . um . . . "

As quickly as he could, Wyatt reached for the shirt he had borrowed from his father and pulled it over his head. He blushed a deep red, partly from embarrassment that his father had seen, but partly from his own forgetfulness. He knew his body looked a mess. It was what had set off his panic attack in the first place. He had scars that he had no idea how he had gotten them. His body had clearly been traumatized over the years, enough that he wondered vaguely how he had survived this long. But this wasn't the time for wondering. Sheepishly, he looked up at his father's concerned face and shrugged, "It looks a lot worse than it is. I can't feel any of it."

This time, Leo was unable to offer any words of encouragement or cheer. He couldn't tell his son that it was all going to be all right. He couldn't make those promises anymore. A pair of tears fell from his overbright eyes as he turned away from his son, unable to say anything at all.

Wyatt called after his father as the angel walked away shaking his head, not sure he should let him go. "Dad?" When Leo didn't react to him at all, Wyatt called again. "_Dad?_"

Leo turned around, face buried under tears of sadness for his children. He couldn't say anything at all, let alone think. His entire body shook with fury and sorrow. His fingers twitched with the lightning power given to him by his Elder brethren. When his eyes met his son's, he knew he would get no encouragement back. The men merely nodded to one another and went their separate ways, everything that needed saying left unspoken but understood.

Safely back in the bathroom, Wyatt heaved out a heavy breath. The sting finally tingling his hand, he looked down and saw the cuts on his knuckles from his breaking of the mirror. He winced in anticipation of one of them discovering the mess he'd made of the bathroom. Rather than do it twice, he picked up the glass before he bothered to rinse the blood away from his hand. For the first time, he had to admit, the pain of the washing was kind of refreshing. It was refreshing to own any feeling at all.

Once the mess was cleaned up as best as it could be without magic (he was too tired to remember the spell Paige had taught them so long ago), Wyatt took one last look in what was left of the mirror. Not great, but it would have to do. He threw a little more water on his face then made his way downstairs to face the day.

The eldest of the Halliwell children knuckled his eyes as he stepped into the brightness of the kitchen. He barely even registered that it was the kitchen in his past, that he wasn't just walking through his family home as he had his entire life. It wasn't until he saw his mother standing at the counter, spatula and mixing bowl in hand, that he remembered where he was. Thrown off, he muttered, "Trippy."

"What is?"

He rolled his eyes around the room, taking it all in. "You have no idea."

Piper smiled at her son, feeling for the first time that he truly was her son in the way that Chris and then Christopher had been. It really was good to have him home, and it was good to be his mother. As if he was still just a kid under her roof, she asked, "Did you get _any_ sleep?"

"Coffee would be great," he answered, regarding her like he was trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking.

Seeing the look, she indicated the sleeping man in the next room and said, "I think we're all happy to have you home."

"So am I."

"Even when your other brother was here, I never saw him sleep like that. He was always working, trying to save you. I don't think he even stopped thinking about it when he did manage to get an hour or two. You must have done something right yesterday to get him to relax like that."

Wyatt sat on the stool in front of the island and started absently playing with the knives in his mother's chopping block. "I didn't do anything. He needed it. He's never been much of a sleeper anyway, but I can always tell when he needs it the most. I'm surprised, though. I would have thought he would have slept okay this week with you and Dad so close by."

"I was," said Piper. "But your father, he . . . Your father has been out hunting every night since the baby and I came home from the hospital. He thinks I don't know, but I do. Well, he thought so until the night before last, anyway. Did Christopher tell you what's been going on with Paige?" When Wyatt nodded, she said, "Even Christopher was having really bad nightmares. He woke up half the block every single night. We're all very grateful that the both of you are here, but I would be lying if I said that they all aren't taking what happened the day your brother was born a little hard."

"They?"

"I'm okay," Piper said quickly and all too defensively, just as she had with her grandmother a week ago. "It's them I'm worried about. I'll be fine. I don't have to like it, and I swear I am never taking or letting either of you leave the house ever again, but we'll be okay. What I need is for the two of you to be safe and I'll be fine. You're safest and strongest here. I think that pretty much tells me what I need to do."

Wyatt eyed his mother with concern, not just for her but for himself and his brother as well. "Are you sure that's the best way to go about this? Mom, it's okay to grieve, but you can't lock us up in a tower for the rest of our lives."

"Hey, kiddo, I don't care how old you are. You are still my son and I make the rules. When you have kids of your own, you can make the rules, but until then, I say we are never leaving this house ever again."

The man wanted to believe that his mother was only talking out of sleep deprivation, which she probably was, but there was something in her eyes that told him he couldn't be sure. Somehow, he had a feeling that his toddler self was about to get very well acquainted with his bedroom for a while. To avoid getting into any trouble, he agreed with her then tried to change the subject. "Okay. It'll be okay. So . . . what did you mean, Dad is out hunting? He hates guns."

"Yeah, well, your father is doing a lot of things that aren't like him these days," Piper groaned. "Your father the pacifist is going around the Underworld challenging any demon in eyesight trying to find Barbas. His going to the future to see if you boys were all right was only part of what he's been going through. He hasn't been all that forthcoming with the details of how Chris died; neither has Paige. From what I've been seeing the last two days, I can see why. I obviously still don't know everything. However it happened, though, a piece of your father died with him. I don't know how I'm going to get him back, but one of these days, he has to come home. It's too much for him to do alone."

Attempting to find anything to make any part of his day better, Wyatt asked, "Do you think it would help if Christopher and I talked to him? What can we do?"

"You can ignore the _Future Consequences_ rule just this once and tell me it gets better in the future and that we all live happily ever after."

Wyatt didn't say anything, but screwed up an eyebrow at his very young mother. He bent his chin to his chest, looking himself slowly up and down from the feet up. He then looked back at her with the same mystified expression and waited for her to realize what she'd just said. It took her a moment, but when she finally caught it, she started to laugh. It started out slow, but soon the two of them were both laughing in near hysterics over the idea that any one of them was ever going to get their fairy tale ending.

Two cups of coffee and several blueberry muffins later, Paige stumbled into the kitchen, bed head and all, with a very confused look on her face. "Who hit Christopher over the head," she asked.

Piper rolled her eyes at her sister as her son's eyes widened in concern, not realizing that his aunt was joking. It wasn't until Paige hefted one of the empty tequila bottles by the neck that he realized what she meant. He guiltily raised his hand, but said, "It was his idea."

"I hope you served it up with aspirin," Paige said, remembering her hangover days without the slightest hint of fondness.

"He brought it, but I don't think he took any. Besides, unless you guys have objections, there's no reason why he can't sleep it off, right?"

"Who can sleep what off," asked a grumpy Christopher from the doorway, rubbing his eyes like he was all of two years old. When he saw his big brother's hopeful face fall, he knew for sure that they had been talking about him. Now grumpier, he trudged past his brother toward the coffee pot, punching the older man on the bicep on the way. "You got me drunk."

Defensively, Wyatt asked, "Were you going to sleep otherwise?" The younger of the brothers merely grunted as he fell into his coffee mug. Simply, Wyatt answered, "Well, there you go."

Clowning his brother upside the head this time on his way to a seat of his own, Christopher asked his mother and aunt, "So what are we working on?"

"Work," asked Paige. "Honey, we just got up."

Agitated, Christopher asked, "Where's Little Wyatt?"

Piper plopped a muffin in front of each son and said soothingly, "He's okay. He's with Grandpa in the nursery with Little You. Your father has been sensing him the entire night, just in case. If there was trouble, we'd know."

As if he could trip up his mother's logic, Christopher asked quickly, "Didn't he go out hunting last night?"

"No, he was too busy worrying about you two," Piper said in the same calm voice, hoping it would get the message through her son's thick skull. "Listen to me. There is nothing more important to any of us right now than to make sure that all of my children are taken care of. The Little Yous are fed and happy. Now it's your turn. At the very least, you need to eat to fight off the hangovers you've got coming on."

"I don't get hangovers," supplied Wyatt with exorbitant cheerfulness right in his little brother's ear.

Again Christopher playfully smacked his brother upside the head. "He doesn't get hangovers."

From where she'd been fussing at the counter, Paige handed a glass over to Christopher with a grin that could only mean trouble. "Drink up, kiddo."

"What is that?"

"Hold your nose while it's going down," she suggested. "We can't have you in a fog all day."

With that kind of warning, Christopher just shoved the glass away from himself with a disgusted grunt. He tried to be as polite as possible as he said, "Yeah. Thanks anyway."

"Drink it," ordered Wyatt. He was pretty sure he knew what was in Paige's concoction and knew that, if his kid brother was going to be of any use to him today, he needed to get it down as fast as possible. He didn't actually expect Christopher to take his word for it, but he had to take the chance that he still had _some_ influence over him. When Christopher looked doubtfully at him, Wyatt resorted to the raised eyebrow he had always given his brother when they were kids and he needed to dare the kid to do something. A small smile joined the cocked eyebrow, escalating the dare even further.

To everyone's amazement, Christopher let the argument drop right then and there, picked up the glass, and slammed the contents down in one long drink. He looked almost green for a moment after swallowing, but he held on. His face twisted in a grimace as he punched his brother once again on the shoulder. "Seriously? I hate you."

"You can thank me later," said Wyatt with a satisfied smirk. Turning to everyone else, he asked, "When are we going?"

"As soon as we can get the little ones ready to go," said Piper, looking at Paige. "I want this over with."

The youngest of the sisters nodded her agreement. When her nephews regarded her strangely, she said, "I'm not really sure why, but I just have this feeling that we don't want to leave them in the house without an active power around. I would volunteer to stay home, but that suggestion was already shot down since you two are going with. I won't be able to see Gideon the way you can, Wyatt, and no one wants us taking the chance of not knowing what's going on around Little You."

Christopher's eyes popped open and quickly found his mother. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, no, no," Piper shook her head. "He slept through the night, no problems. He didn't even seem to have any dreams. It's almost as if Gideon decided to take the night off or something. Don't worry. He's perfectly safe."

_Perfectly safe, my ass_, grumbled Wyatt in the back of his head. Of course the little one was safe; Gideon had decided to do exactly what Christopher had been worried about. He probably had been listening in on the entire conversation they'd had that night. Knowing that he couldn't just blurt out that thought, he smiled weakly at the family. "Good. Good. Really good."

"Something wrong," asked Piper.

"No, just . . . um . . . Christopher," asked Wyatt, calling for his brother's attention. He hopped off his stool and pulled the younger man aside by the elbow as he beamed a smile that would fool no one at the rest of the family. He backed the two of them out the door, waving at them on their way out. "I just need him for a minute. We'll be right back."

The younger of the brothers tripped over his own feet as he tried to pull away from his big brother. "What the hell?"

"Just follow me," Wyatt commanded and led a very confused Christopher to the front door of the manor. He opened the door and pulled his brother outside then shut the door behind them.

As soon as they were outside, Christopher asked, "What's wrong?"

Wyatt held up his sliced knuckles to show Christopher and said blackly, "We don't have as much time as we thought."

Christopher felt his face pale to match the shade his brother wore. He cursed under his breath then asked to confirm, "You've seen him? Why didn't you come get me?"

"There wasn't time, and no, I just heard him. I thought maybe I saw something, but it couldn't have been. But he . . . He's in my head, Chris. I don't know when or how, but he got in my head. I . . . " Once again Wyatt held up his fist, then carefully pulled the sleeve over his hand to hide it as soon as they went back inside. "I took it out on the mirror."

"Well, then, let's fix this before he gets any braver than he already is. If these ladies don't have the answers that the other me seems to think they're going to have, we're going to need to go back to the drawing board. I would rather we know sooner than later if we have a plan or not." When he didn't see even a little bit of confidence return to his brother's eyes, Christopher clapped a hand on Wyatt's shoulder. He didn't offer a smile, but he tried to at least sound confident enough for the both of them. "I'm not going to let him take you again. You believe me, don't you?"

Ignoring the question, Wyatt said, "I'm not as worried about me as I am you."

Christopher tried to look as relaxed as possible, despite his growing headache. With half a smile, he bargained, "He kills me again, I'm going to need someone to blame, and that someone is going to be you. You don't want to know what the rest of your life is going to be like with me haunting you for all eternity. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Then stop looking so scared. It's really starting to freak me out, and I'm too damned hung over to want to tell you just how much it freaks me out. We're going to be fix this thing until I'm happy with the way it ends, no matter how many damned times I have to do it. End of story."

**V.**

Getting into Valhalla turned out to be an even easier affair than anyone had anticipated it would be. Phoebe remembered that Chris had kept Leysa's pendant after their "rescue" of Leo (as a reminder to himself that, should he succeed, he would never take another life ever again), so she went to the club to dig it out of the box of his things that none of them had been able to bring themselves to take home. The pendant gave the orbers enough of a guidance boost to get them where they needed to go. The landing was a little rough on the uneven terrain, but they were all there, safe, and together.

They hardly had time to get their bearings when they were completely surrounded by twenty of Freya's best warriors. Leo immediately pulled Piper behind him. Valiant though his effort was, Piper instinctively pulled away, instead shoving him behind her and her sisters. Wyatt and Christopher both vied for control over which of them was going to protect the other. It was almost comical considering that they were outnumbered over three to one.

The odds broke up a little (literally) as the group soon parted to make way for, first, three beautiful Valkyries armed to the teeth and then Freya herself. The Valkyrie goddess exhibited very little surprise when she caught sight of who her prisoners were. Her voice was almost ethereal when she said to her guests, "I knew you would seek us out sooner or later. Welcome, friends."

Freya dismissed her warriors and the other Valkyries, leading the Halliwell clan toward a spot on her island paradise she loved to keep for her own. Few had seen it, but it seemed to her to be the most appropriate place. No one spoke during the walk, waiting for Freya to give them the hint that it was okay. She would have engaged them in some small talk if she had any idea how to make small talk. She heard that humans talked about the weather, but what was she supposed to say? It's been sunny since the day I built this place? Chris had tried to get her to make small talk once; he'd only ended up insulting her until she'd laughed. No one had ever insulted her before. She kind of liked it.

Amused at the memory, Freya asked over her shoulder, "Do you have the same sense of humor that Chris had?"

Surprised, Christopher skipped ahead a few steps to walk evenly with Freya and asked, "How? How did you know the difference?"

"It's my job to know the warrior soul," the goddess said simply. "You two definitely have your differences, and I'm not talking about your different timelines." She offered a smile to Wyatt as she added over her shoulder to him, "I wasn't, however, expecting you. I'm glad to see that things haven't turned out as badly as it was thought that they would."

"We aren't done yet," said Wyatt.

Freya's eyes were kind as she sad, "No, you aren't. You wouldn't be here otherwise. I can see that your brother has the same fight in him that Chris had, so no, you are nowhere near done yet."

Before he could stop himself from saying something stupid, Wyatt asked, "You're a real Up With People kind of person, huh?"

"You are nowhere near done yet," emphasized Freya again with a clear _I Wasn't Done Yet_ tone. "But that doesn't mean that an end isn't in sight."

"Is it an ending we're going to like," asked Christopher.

The Valkyrie stopped in the middle of the path for a moment, seeming to consider the answer to the young man's question. After a beat, she looked deeply at Christopher and Wyatt then said with a voice distinctly devoid of any emotion, "That, I'm afraid, is up to the two of you."

As much as they both wanted a little more than a clue for an explanation, Wyatt and Christopher dropped back to follow the Valkyrie in silence with the rest of the family. The two of them glanced at each other and knew that they were both thinking the same thing anyway. _Cryptic much?_

Nearly a mile later, they reached a cluster of trees overlooking a sheer drop off where Phoebe sucked in a breath, not from the beauty, but from memory. "I know this place," she said out loud without meaning to. Quickly correcting herself, she said, "Chris knew this place."

"He liked the view," confirmed Freya. While the family admired the view of the waterfall and the pool at its foot across the way, Freya swept her arm around her, inviting them all to sit and be comfortable, even though no one took her up on the offer. "Being neither Here nor There, Chris needed a home. He found one here, and always will, whatever and whenever he needs."

With Chris unable to say so in his own words and feeling the need to express her own gratitude, Piper said with tearful sincerity, "Thank you, for everything you did for my son. I don't know exactly what it is you did, or how you did it, but it is because of him that we're here. He trusted you. These two are still alive because of something you did for us in the not-too-far future. Whatever it is you've done for us, thank you."

A genuine smile graced the Valkyrie's features, giving them an even more unearthly glow. "Your gratitude is unnecessary, but I understand. Thanks to Chris, my house and the descendents of Melinda Warren and the Charmed Ones will always be joined. You need never fear me or those under my guardianship. You have my protection and aid, now and forever." She settled back a little to include the rest of the family and said kindly, "But '_forever_' is not why we are here. Something has happened?"

"Where do we start," groaned Paige under the weight of their entire situation. "But before we even do that, can I ask, how did you know that Christopher wasn't Chris? I know you said you can their souls apart and all, but how did you know that Chris died?"

Freya watched Paige's reaction and said slowly, "You were with him." When Paige nodded sadly, the goddess went on. "I thought I saw you. I was there with him. An angel of Death and I were both there. I offered Chris the opportunity to return here since he had loved it so, but he said that he needed to go with the angel. He was able to tell me after his death some of what I am about to tell you in a while that he hadn't been able to talk about before. He needed to go with the angel because of some '_business_' that he had to attend to on the ghostly plane. He didn't say what."

"Our grandmother said he's been making a mess of things Up There since he died," said Phoebe. "Chris told me not to worry about it, but I could tell she wasn't exaggerating."

"No, she wasn't. I've had contact of my own with a few beings who would know. I wanted to be sure that Chris was protected. He is safe, for now. The angel who took him has kept him close. Somehow, I think you already knew that. So, I ask again, something has happened?"

Christopher smiled at the goddess, even as he searched for the shortest explanation possible for what was going on with them. "Not to be rude, but, for lack of a better explanation . . . " He moved his flat hand horizontally between his chest and Wyatt's, bugging his eyes out wide. "We happened."

"So you have," said Freya, not at all surprised by the answer. She even offered him a wink of her eye. "No apologies. You have his sense of humor. Speak freely, both of you. I am not easily offended." With a short laugh, she added, "At least, not until now. Please, everyone, sit."

As the family began to truly settle in, Wyatt leaned in and whispered in Christopher's ear, "'_We happened_'?"

"You have a better way to put it?"

With a lighter chuckle than Christopher had heard from his brother in years, Wyatt said, "Yeah, but the words that come to mind I probably shouldn't say in front of Mom."

Flopping down on the softer than naturally possible grass, Christopher said conspiratorially, "I triple dog dare you."

"Before we begin," started Freya as she stepped into the middle of the circle the family had unconsciously made. She gracefully let herself slide to the ground to sit in front of the two men from the future, effectively blocking them from the view of everyone else so that they might have as few distractions as possible. She took both Christopher and Wyatt by the hands. "I need the two of you to tell me what has happened in your battle up until now."

"Where do you need us to start," asked Wyatt dryly.

Freya smiled gently at the men and said, "Nowhere. Just like scars on the surface, history scars us all to the deepest depths. Your souls will tell me what I need to know. Just concentrate on each other and your lives will do the rest."

As the brothers glanced at one another in confusion, the Valkyrie goddess closed her eyes and clasped their hands in a death grip. Her eyes fluttered back into her head, leaving long eyelashes batting at no one in particular. She cringed a few times, threw her head back with a terrifying scream, then released their hands with a few hard, panting breaths.

Without thinking about it, Christopher and Wyatt both held her hands tight and tried to pull her back up into a fully sitting position. Both asked quickly with concern, "Are you okay?"

Freya nodded her thanks at their gallant gestures, even though their efforts had been less than necessary. She got up from the ground long enough to return to the outer edge of the circle so that she could address the entire family again. Regally, she looked each one in the eye then said, "You have questions."

Taking that as permission to begin, Leo turned to the woman who had been his host for six very long weeks and asked, "How did you know that we would be coming?"

"Chris and I talked shortly before he was to leave to return to the future. He was afraid that something was wrong yet, even though you thought that you had stopped the demon after Wyatt. He asked me if he could direct you to us should things not work out. He wanted you to have a safe place to go. I agreed."

"Just like that," asked Wyatt. When he saw a dirty look come from his father at the rudeness of the question, he amended himself. "Not to be rude, but I guess I don't understand. Maybe it's just that I'm a little out of synch with everyone else, but what did he do that you would owe him such a favor?"

The goddess folded her hands in front of her, never letting go of her imperial air, even with her admission. "It wasn't a '_favor_', if that's how you would put it. We did not necessarily owe each other anything. That said, I have a great appreciation for what he tried to do. While I may possess powers beyond the comprehension of most, they are, in fact, limited by the constraints of time and space. Try as I might, I cannot see the future. Had I known two years ago the things that Chris was able to show me, I might have saved many, many people their sufferings. Leysa was not the only one of my girls to leave the fold under the lure of Evil. She was merely the only one with whom Chris had a personal stake. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. The story you seek begins long before the day Chris showed up in your attic two years ago."

Feeling an incredible itch to get things moving along — she did have a family to save, after all — Piper asked, "If not then, when?"

"That depends on how you see time," answered Freya. "Is it something linear or something much more fluid and manipulatable?"

"You're saying that something that happened in the future is what caused Chris to come here, not the other way around like we thought," said Paige. "And if that thing in the future had never happened, something in our past never would have happened?"

Freya graced Paige with a smile for a moment, contemplating what it was that seemed to be running through the witch's head. "In a roundabout way, yes. Three years ago, an event occurred that never should have. If choices had been made differently — But again, I'm getting ahead of the story. The most and least logical place to begin is in the middle, which is a place that, as I understand it, only Phoebe has been privy to until now."

Surprised to be called out on something she knew they hadn't told the Valkyrie as of yet, Phoebe startled and asked, "Me?"

"Your memories of Chris's future."

Shaking her head, Phoebe had to keep herself from backing up from the look on Freya's face. "I didn't see things like that. It wasn't like I had the whole picture of anything."

"Believe it or not, your foray into the realm of _Personal Gain_ is actually more beneficial to you than you yet realize. I can help you to fill in the blanks, as it were. You may be surprised at what you know."

"How do you even know about this?"

Freya nodded her head sideways at Christopher and Wyatt. "They just told me." Without waiting for the implications to dawn on everyone, the goddess asked the caretaker of Chris's memories, "Phoebe, do you remember what it was that Chris and I talked about the first day he showed up here?"

"I'm not sure," said Phoebe slowly.

Seeing the hesitation on the witch's part, Freya reached over to her and held her hand in the same manner she had Christopher and Wyatt. Softly, she urged, "Concentrate." As before, the goddess looked slightly faint afterward, but she was made of much tougher stuff than a few memories could do to her. Once she'd collected herself, she focused again on Phoebe and said, "Try again, Phoebe. What do you remember about that day?"

"Chris's first day . . . " Phoebe tried to clear her mind of everything but the conversation she had seen Chris have with the Valkyrie goddess. It seemed so far away now, even though it had been so clear to her at the time, as if it were a memory of her own. Now it seemed more like a dream that wanted to float away into the Land of Wasted Dreams. "It's close, but every time I try," she stuttered, "It's gone now. The only real conversation I remember between the two of you was well after he was settled with us, the day we came to get Leo. All I know is that you said he'd shown you something about the future."

"He did," the Valkyrie confirmed. "Chris came to the past nearly a month before you ever saw him. We spent a great deal of time teaching him to fight without his powers so that he wouldn't rely on them too much. He didn't want to expose too many future secrets, including what his own powers were. He didn't explain why, but he felt it was important. The rest of the time, he liked to spend alone, especially in this spot here. When he first arrived, however, Chris and I spent close to a week in normal time together. He told me many, many things which I was bound to secrecy about. He was a very secretive boy."

"But that was for a good reason," shuddered Phoebe. Her own look into his life was enough to tell her that she was never going to begrudge him his '_Future Consequences_' excuse ever again, no matter who he was. "The things he knew and saw . . ."

" — Could be very, very dangerous in the wrong hands. Which is why one of the things I taught him was how to put his past life behind him, to, as one of your psychiatrists would suggest, '_compartmentalize_' his life. In the end, perhaps, many things could have been avoided had I not taught him so. His death might very well have been avoided if he hadn't lost some of the information that he didn't know he had. He might have known that something was missing and done something about it."

Cautiously, Christopher looked at his brother and knew that Wyatt was thinking the same thing. "A weapon of some kind."

"You might call it that," agreed Freya. "In the months following his father's death, Chris spent a lot of time trying to find out anything he could about what had happened, about both while he'd been kept in seclusion and after his father's death. He went to every Seer he could find. He went from one magical source to another, even the angel of Destiny. No one had answers for him. No one, except Wyatt himself."

Both Piper and Leo flinched in surprise, but no one was more surprised than Christopher. "He just asked him?"

Freya shrugged in an oddly human gesture as she regarded the people who had been entrusted to her care two years ago without their knowledge. She had very little contact with the outside world, but somehow, she had put a great affection for Chris Halliwell in her hardened heart. She could see now what it was about his family that both frustrated and amused him so. "He just asked," she confirmed.

"Okay," groaned Christopher. "Then here's a stupid question for you. What did Wyatt say?"

"That Chris was the answer."

"Of course," said both brothers, annoyed, even though they both had already known that was going to be the answer. To coax the roundabout conversation along, Wyatt utzed her, "What else did he say?"

The goddess switched her focus back and forth along the family line, addressing them as she would her own warriors. The Halliwells were not yet a part of the battle to come, but that made them no less warriors in her mind. Confidently, she told them, "Phoebe, I would assume that, given that you know about my arrangement with Chris regarding one of my former girls, you know why we held that deal?"

"She killed Leo in the future," acknowledged the goddess, not sure where she was going just yet.

Ignoring the gasp from Piper, Freya went on. "I believe you also saw that event in Chris's life. You saw the moments before and after?" After a nod from Phoebe, she said, "Then you know what Wyatt said to Chris when it was over: '_There are things that I can't tell you right now, but in time you will understand why this had to happen._' It was on the night that Chris made his decision to come to the past that Wyatt revealed what that thing was."

"The night in the attic, before the museum was opened? The last night the two of them were together?"

"Yes. Not long after his mother was murdered and the boys were sent into hiding, Wyatt learned that the Titans had come after his family that day for a very specific reason: to kill Chris. While that wasn't much of a surprise to them, the reason why was. Wyatt learned that, just a few years into the future, Chris was going to die taking on the Elders himself. Wyatt didn't know why, only that the Elders would be prepared and that Chris would try and fail."

Thinking it was out of character that he would tell his brother about his own death, Wyatt argued, "And this other me told Chris this?"

"No. And yes. He told Chris that he would die, yes. What he didn't tell Chris was the real reason why he had taken the Elders on and why Wyatt had chosen the path that he had chosen after the death of their mother. When Wyatt destroyed the Elders in his own time, it was to protect Chris. By destroying Them, Chris wouldn't have to. He chose to lose himself to Evil rather than ever let his brother know what he knew about the Elders. Of course, Wyatt wasn't aware at the time that Chris already knew what his brother was trying to hide and had no intention of going about things that way."

Phoebe said thoughtfully, "When I talked to Chris today, he said that he discovered that he knew something he wasn't supposed to know. It wasn't until he died that he remembered. Is that the thing he was talking about? Do you know what that thing is?"

"I do."

"Can you tell us?"

"I could, but just as it was for him, the knowledge he held would be dangerous to you. It is something that will change everything you have known about the last two years of your lives. Are you entirely sure that that is something you are willing to do to yourselves? To your children?"

Piper and Leo looked at each other, knowing that the question was really about them and how much they wanted to know. Cautiously, she asked, "Can we save my sons without knowing?"

"Possibly," said Freya. "It's also possible that you could repeat the same mistakes without the knowledge that I could give you."

It wasn't the answer that Piper was looking for, but she waved her hand around in a sarcastic circle and drawled, "Well, then, lay it on us, sister, and get it over with."

With an _As You Wish_ nod at the mother, Freya set the family up for what was to come. "There were actually two very specific things that Chris knew, one of the future and one of the past. The knowledge of the future specifically concerned himself and his brother."

Realization dawned on Christopher with a sick thud, escaping his throat with a grunt before the Valkyrie could even tell them more. "Oh, god."

Immediately, Piper turned on her son, concerned. "Christopher?"

Freya sat back and watched as the pieces came together visibly on Christopher's face. His eyes watered and his lower lip quivered in a mixture of fear, disgust, and horror. Knowing that only his brother would understand what he was talking about, he looked to Wyatt, who gripped his shoulder in concern. "Chris?"

"It _was_ a vision, _his _vision. He came here because he knew that if he didn't come back and stop it, Wyatt was going to kill him."

"In the attic with the sword," finished Wyatt as he paled. "Lucy was right. It was real. He killed him."

As the two men worked toward the natural conclusions, Freya interrupted them before they could get too far. "You're almost there, but not quite."

Angry without meaning to be but frustrated beyond all belief at his seeming inability to keep himself from killing his own brother, Wyatt asked sharply, "What's there to miss?"

"Phoebe only got part of the memory right," the Valkyrie told them, much to the surprise of all. "So did Lucy the night she told you she was pregnant. So did the two of you yesterday afternoon when you talked about her baby. As with any dream or vision, what you saw you interpreted. Phoebe, in particular, thought she understood what was happening when she saw the encounter between Chris and Wyatt in the attic. She did not."

A little offended at being singled out — she _had_ been doing this for a while — Phoebe asked, "How could I get it wrong? They argued about the museum opening. There wasn't anything to get wrong."

"There is a great deal to get wrong. The only flash of the memory you saw was when Wyatt first arrived. Chris never looked at him during the memory for you, did he? You merely recognized his voice because Chris knew his voice?"

"Yes . . ."

"Had you been allowed to see further, even further than Lucy did, you would know that when Chris finally saw his brother, he barely recognized the man he saw. He had a scar along his face, his hair had been shocked white. It was his brother, yes, from the future. The time travelling idea came to Chris because Wyatt had come to him from a year in the future to warn him. That night, he did not talk to his brother as he knew him, but what his brother was to become. Wyatt had come to warn Chris of the battle that they were to fight just weeks from that night when ultimately Chris would die at his brother's hand."

Wyatt looked at his brother for a moment, an idea of his own bringing him a kind of hope and terror at the same time. "It was Chris's death that finally saved him. It's what woke him up."

Freya nodded a positive answer at him and continued, "Wyatt was overthrown not long afterwards because he was unwilling to fight anyone but himself any longer. His sole mission became to find a way to save Chris, and to a lesser extent, himself. It took him nearly a year to come to the conclusion that he was going to be unable to do it himself, not that there was a lack of trying. He never said where the idea came from to send Chris to the past, but he did it. He went to the night before the museum opening, knowing that Chris would be there waiting for his 'present' self. They didn't have much time together before that Wyatt arrived, but together they came up with the plan. That night, to save his brother's life, Wyatt gave Chris the tools he needed to escape their life and try to fix it for them all. Wyatt gave him all of the weapons he would need to do it safely, all of the knowledge that he had of the past and the way things worked. It was on that night that Chris learned the true weapon that he would come to possess, the one that everyone Up There is so afraid of."

Immediately, Leo caught on to the hatred in Freya's voice that he couldn't understand. "What is it?"

"When Chris came to me, he was worried that something would force him to forget. He said Wyatt was afraid for him, that just by having that knowledge, it could jeopardize their entire plan here in the past. So just as I did with Christopher and Wyatt, he passed on to me his history and entrusted his secrets with me. The Elders have been trying to find me ever since, but so far, we have been able to remain safe from Their prying eyes."

"Why would the Elders . . . "

"He didn't know that Gideon was the one who turned Wyatt, if that's what you're asking. I told you, Chris had two specific pieces of information: one of the future, which is what his death at Wyatt's hand was, and one of the past. What he did know is that the Elders were the ones responsible for setting the Titans loose in the first place."

"_What_?"

"The memory that you must have seen, Phoebe, would tell you that I'm right. You must have heard Wyatt tell Chris about it. The day that Wyatt betrayed the Elders and handed Them over to the Titans was something that the boys had planned all those nights in their safehouse. At the time, it had been idle talk. Chris never really meant to do it, but he didn't know that Wyatt had been slowly turning already at that point. He didn't know that he was supposed to go through with it in the future. He didn't know that Wyatt had Gideon whispering in his ear day and night that if he didn't stop the Elders, They would kill Chris."

As much as she had hated Them over the years, Piper was still having a hard time with the suggestion that all of this was because of Them in the first place. "I don't understand. What could They possibly have to gain by setting the Titans loose on the world? Chris said that the entire Elder population had been destroyed in the attack, and that's why Leo had become one eventually. Why would They risk the Titans turning on Them like that. It doesn't make any sense."

"The Elders had every confidence that They could control the Titans. They only wanted the Titans for one thing, and that was you. They knew that you were going to be seriously weakened by an attack of that kind. The Elders commissioned the demon to find the Titans and set them loose so that they might break the power of the Charmed Ones. It was meant to be a lesson to you, to force you to remember your duties as the Charmed Ones. You were meant to serve the world and give your lives in sacrifice of those in need as your sister did, not lead normal lives that would pull one of Their own from the fold. With the birth of your son, They felt you had lost all control of your Destiny. They wanted to direct you back to it."

Bitterly, Paige said , "Next time, They could just send a note."

Piper remained unconvinced, and asked, "Fighting the Titans was going to make Them happy? For how long?"

"If the Titans had succeeded in their mission to kill Wyatt, a very long time," said Freya with startling frankness. With a dark look at Paige, she added, "You were not the original target. Your nephew was."

"But he was just a baby," argued Leo. "He _is_ just a baby."

Freya gestured pointedly at Wyatt, who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He knew what she was going to say even before she said, "He won't always be. Leo, you know that the Elders have the power to see into the future. The Council did, and Wyatt is what They saw, Wyatt and Chris. They did not like what They saw."

As she was frequently wont to do, Phoebe clutched her temples in frustration at the lack of linear sense that this time travel stuff was making to her. Huffing, she complained, "Yeah, okay, see, this is all starting to go in circles that make the kind of sense that isn't sense at all."

"Which is why I told you from the beginning, the answers would come to you, depending on how you see time. If the Elders had never looked into the future and seen your sons, the Titans never would have been released. The world that Chris and Wyatt had grown up in would not have existed. Chris wouldn't have died at the hand of the Elders. Wyatt wouldn't have sacrificed himself to keep Chris from dying. Chris wouldn't have died at Wyatt's hand. Wyatt never would have had to visit Chris from the future to tell him to go to the past to fix it all. It comes in circles and waves, but the end result is all the same. If even the prospect of Wyatt's birth hadn't threatened the security of the Elder's control over the Charmed Ones and the world itself, none of this would have happened and you would all be safe right now."

Leo shook his head vehemently in denial. "They couldn't. They wouldn't."

Freya tried to put an air of kindness into her voice for her charges. She knew it would mean something to Chris if she did. Gently, she said, "They felt that the four of you were starting to cause too many problems and could no longer be trusted. They wanted Leo, but They knew They could never keep him with Piper still around."

Logically, Piper asked, "If Chris knew all of this, why wouldn't he tell us? Why would he want Leo to become an Elder then?"

"For two reasons. He wanted Leo Up There to be able to keep Them honest. He thought you would all be much safer with Leo Up There than if They were to continue unchecked the way They were." Freya looked pointedly at the sisters, then specifically at Phoebe. "The lesson They had intended you to learn was taught eventually. Chris only delayed the inevitable by helping you with the Titans, which leads me to the other reason Chris didn't just come out and tell you about the Elders' involvement. The other reason is that he forgot, or rather, was forced to forget."

Paige thought back to the strange change in Chris's behavior that she had noticed the day after Leo had gone off to be a full time Elder, after They had destroyed the Titans. "The Elders erased Themselves from his memory as soon as They were able to get him alone, didn't They?"

"With Leo no longer Up There to protect him, Chris was left to fend for himself. As powerful as he was, he didn't have a chance against the entire council. When Chris showed up with a plan to thwart the Titans, They knew exactly who he was, having seen Their destruction at his hand in the future. Even They did not know who had turned Wyatt, though, so They needed him to complete that part of his mission. They left him to do so, minus one very important memory." The goddess looked directly at Leo as she said darkly, "Your friends went to an awful lot of trouble to keep your son from knowing what They had done before and shortly after his brother was born. I'm willing to bet that the same could be said for you."

"And me," said Christopher thoughtfully. He turned to his brother, his mind working a mile a minute. "You said you thought that They wanted me because I knew something I wasn't supposed to know. Did I find out and not remember like he did?"

"Probably not," said Wyatt carefully. "But Charlie thought, well, Charlie had this theory about you and — I don't know. He was worried that . . . He thought . . ."

"'Charlie thought what?"

Everyone could hear how hard Leo's teeth were clenched, even though he tried to hide it. "You are always one dream away from finding out everything."

"Huh?"

"The two of you joke about it, but the genetic difference between the two of you based on my job description at the time you were born is a lot more important than you think. Christopher, you are always in commune with the other Elders, whether you know it or not. Even in your dreams, especially in your dreams, you are in direct contact with them. That's how you know so much more about demons without realizing that you know it. That information is always right there, as long as you're curious enough to find out about it. You share the memories of all of the others, just as I do. That . . . That must be why They eventually killed me. I must have found out myself. You must have been getting closer to finding out. One dream in the right direction would have told you about Their attempts to see the future, Their vision of first you then Wyatt turning against Them, all of it. After all of this, one dream would have told you all about Chris, his death, and Gideon's part in it."

Thoughtfully, Wyatt said, "That's why They forced me into Their service after you died, Dad. They wanted to be able to keep a closer eye on Christopher, and if that didn't work, They could always hold it all over my head to keep him safe. They knew I would do anything to keep him from being under Their thumb."

Piper wrapped her arms around herself to keep her very visible shaking down to a minimum as she said, "You know, all of this information is great. It puts a lot of pieces together and explains so much . . . But it doesn't tell me what to do about now. I can't change the past, not that way. I can't fix the future until I deal with what is happening to us now. We can't go up against the Elders, not with Wyatt and Christopher without powers. Even if we could, that still wouldn't help us with the immediate problem of stopping Gideon from torturing my kid for the next twenty-seven years."

Paige suggested, "The first thing is to get Little Christopher and Wyatt someplace safe, right?"

"And where exactly is that these days," groaned Piper.

"Well, we don't have the snow gardens yet, but we have their temperate cousin," said Paige sunnily. To Freya, she said with a nod toward her nephews, "I'm sure you saw it when you looked at the two of them, but you were instrumental in creating a sanctuary for the family a few years from now. I guess you used some of the magic that was used to create this place. Anyway, this place should work in the same way, right? Evil can't get in or out? No one can?"

"We are secure, yes," said Freya. With an amused grin, she added in the direction of the sisters, "Unless something unexpected comes along."

"Then we could bring the kids here, right? They would be safe. We could all be safe long enough to come up with a plan to deal with Gideon?"

Freya smiled oddly at the idea that, of all the things she could be asked to help with, building a sanctuary for the family was not one that she had anticipated. If that had worked in Wyatt and Christopher's past, however, how could she deny them now? "Of course. I would be honored to have you all."

Before he realized what he was doing, Wyatt shook his head. "That's great for Christopher. Definitely. Take him. It isn't going to do Little Me any good, though. If Gideon can follow _me_Me here, he can follow Little Me here, too."

As all of the mouths around them opened to ask Wyatt what he meant, Christopher immediately hauled his brother up by the elbow. He directed Wyatt over to a cluster of trees just far enough out of whispered hearing range but still within sight. Angrily, he pushed, "You and me, over there, now."

Quiet as he would have liked to believe that he was being given his frustration, very alarming snippets of the conversation carried over to the rest of the family, hiding nothing from them at all.

"You have to fight him," Christopher hissed at his brother. "I can't help you. I know you are all messed up right now, I get that, but do you get that I can't help you? I can't see him, let alone fight him for you."

"I'm not asking you to. What? You think I'm not trying?"

"Try harder."

Piper looked over to where her two boys were less-than-softly talking twenty feet away from the rest of the group. Quietly so that she could only be heard by the 'adults', she asked, "So what do we do now? We have nowhere to go if Gideon can follow us even here."

"I think your grandmother was right," said Leo, a strange mechanical look coming over his face as if he weren't really with them anymore. "There is a deal to be made here. And if not, I have some business to attend to."

"You can't go Up There," said Paige incredulously. "When They realize you know, They'll just kill you right then and there. At the very least, They'll erase your memories."

Not leaving it up for discussion, Leo automatically but gently kissed his wife and smiled at her. "I'll see you at home."

"LEO!" the sisters all hollered.

Hearing their mother and her sisters hollering to announce their father's departure, Christopher and Wyatt quickly joined the girls. As if he couldn't take one more bit of bad news so early in the day, Christopher asked impatiently, "Now what?"

With her eyes rolled to the skies above, Piper groaned, "Tell me he gets better in the future." When both Wyatt and Christopher just shook their heads at her, she threw her hands up in exasperation. "You know what? Nevermind. I give up. It's not like he listens to me anyway."

"We need to get him back," argued Christopher.

"Yeah, good luck with that one," said Paige, patting him sarcastically on the shoulder. "He's on a mission. There is no getting him back until he decides to come back."

Wyatt was the only one who didn't seem to care that their father had run off. The way Leo had been watching him, like he knew that something was going on that he didn't know about, was really starting to unnerve him anyway. He knew he was hiding something; that wasn't the problem. He wouldn't have to hide anything if they could just get rid of Gideon in the first place, and the only way that they were going to get rid of Gideon was to ask the right questions, if Chris's hint has been correct. To steer them all back to the moment and where they needed to be, he looked right at Freya, who seemed to be waiting for him anyway. Trying to put some apology into his voice that he knew wouldn't be in his words, Wyatt asked, "Okay, so we're down one body again right now. Out of curiosity . . . You are supposed to have answers for us right now that I don't know how else to find. So here's one for you: do you know how to get us our powers back? I need this guy out of my life as fast as we can make that happen, so how do we make that happen if we don't have powers? We can't fight him without powers."

Freya eyed first Wyatt then Christopher. A smile stretched over her face as she took in particularly Christopher and asked, "Says who?"

Frustrated after hours on end of saving first his brother, then his aunt, and then his brother again, Christopher could only look at their benefactress as if she had spontaneously grown two heads. "What are you talking about? In seven years, I have tried everything that I could to save my brother. I have seen Seers and demons and every single being that could possibly have an answer for me. They have all said the same thing: I _do not possess the key to saving him._"

"They were all correct. You did not possess it. Now you do."

"But how?"

The goddess merely cocked her head to the side and smiled at them. "Two brothers, two swords."

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	10. Who Brought the Knife to the Gunfight?

**Chapter Ten  
****Who Brought the Knife to the Gunfight?**

**I.**

While the family splintered off into groups to try to sort out their situation, Freya stepped away. She stood on the edge of the cliff and closed her eyes, letting a familiar feeling fall over her. She felt the essence of Chris wash over her, as if he'd never left. She let her memory focus on him and the memory of him until she had the connection she was looking for. Silently, she called out to him, summoning him to return to her.

Within seconds, a wisp of air circled around her to land at her side. After a crooked smile of greeting at the goddess he firmly counted among his friends (something she would no doubt find amusing if she had a human sense of humor), Chris looked around, seeing his family clustered not too far away from him. Quickly putting the pieces together, he quietly asked for confirmation. "They know?"

Freya only nodded.

"All of it? About Wyatt and the Elders and what happened to him?"

Again the goddess nodded, but this time she added, "As much as you allowed me to tell them, that is. After watching their reactions, I would agree: some things are better left unsaid when it comes to what came to pass between yourself, your brother, and the Elders. That is for you and you alone. Some of this, however, is not."

Chris nodded over his shoulder at his carbon copy and his brother. "How did _they_ take it?"

"Better than your father," she said quickly. "Which is why I summoned you. You're going to be needed Up There. Your father has gone to confront the other Elders — "

"Oh, no," he groaned. Okay, seriously. How much more could this mess fall into the abyss of all messes? When were they going to figure out that they were only making things worse? Damn it! "No! He can't!"

"Chris, I can only tell your parents so much. There are some things that only you can tell, even with my knowledge of events. You have to tell Leo the rest, before it's too late." A little more pointedly, she said, "You have a few things you should tell them as well."

The young former Whitelighter shuddered and shook his head. Quietly he pleaded with her and any other gods that may be listening, "Maybe I don't have to."

"It was the right thing to say. If you think like a witch, like the warrior you are, you know I'm right. If you let the concerns of family and emotions cloud your judgement, you know I'm right when I say they'll only end up with you, waiting it out until another pair of them makes it back here the way the three of you have."

There was a guilt behind Chris's eyes as he said, "There are so many things that I did when I was alive that I am not in any way proud of. I did things that I still don't know how I did them. There are days when I wish I could take back so much of it. But what you're saying, it's a line that even I cannot cross. I can't."

"You still need to tell them," said Freya gently. She saw that look in his eyes, the one that had told her two years ago that he was going to have a hard time ahead. She knew now that he was not like her other warriors. He was going to carry his battle on until it was over for good. It would be with him, no matter what, even through and after death. With a coaxing hand, she turned him by the shoulder and said, "You don't have long before I should to send you to your father. Go do what you can."

His sarcastic smirk came back to his face instantly. He knew she secretly liked being teased by him and would gladly oblige her if it would ease both her tensions and his. With an appreciative glance up and down her perfectly toned body, he said, "You're a pushy little broad, aren't you?"

The goddess gave her warrior a shove in the right direction. "You like it when I push."

"No comment," said Chris brightly. Before he could change his mind, he jogged over to where his mother and her sisters were playing with the children, all looking more than a little worried. Their future counterparts were standing over them, watching the goings on and talking quietly between themselves, occasionally pointing at one of the adults as if trying to decide what their purpose or mission could be. Chris knew that expression on his own face so well; Christopher was getting close to something he didn't want to be close to. Well, if nothing else, Freya's summons had good timing.

At his side, Freya greeted them all, "I have some help for you."

"Hey."

The sisters all stood up immediately, mouths gaping like fish out of water in their surprise. Phoebe and Paige quickly recovered and smothered their nephew in hugs. Christopher and Wyatt both waved shyly at him, the awkwardness of the situation not lost on any of the once and future trio. Little Wyatt wrapped his arms around his mother's leg, unable to let go. Only Piper was left in shock, not knowing what to say to Freya or her guest. Piper's eyes darted between the two until she settled on the boy in the grey and yellow sweatshirt she remembered all too well and had envisioned stained with his life's blood. Of all the things she wanted to say, none of them were coming to her at the moment. Instead, all she could was, "How?"

"Regardless of where they decide to go, I always have the souls of warriors at my call," said Freya. "He is always mine to summon. Chris is needed; I called."

Chris smiled at his mother, walked up to her, and gently pressed a kiss into her forehead. When he pulled back away from her, he smiled and said, "It's going to be okay, Mom."

Before anyone could say anything else, Chris backed away, pulling his other self by the elbow away from the rest of them. As the others marveled at how strange it was to see the two of them talking to one another, having nearly synchronized facial expressions and mirrored stances, the two Chrises buried themselves in an all too brief conversation in hushed tones to keep the others out.

"You want the good news or the bad news first," asked Chris when they were out of earshot.

Christopher pulled whiskey face at his identical counterpart and asked, "Does it matter?"

"Probably not," said Chris. "Number one: when we're done here, tell your brother to relax. Gideon isn't here. I know he thinks he can hear him, but he isn't here. Even Gideon can't get through the walls into Valhalla."

"You were listening?"

"I was watching Little Wyatt this morning and overheard the two of you when I saw him drag you away to the front steps. I didn't mean to, but I . . ." said Chris all too quickly, looking down at his toes as if he were embarrassed. "My brother had that same look, like he always thought someone was listening. I kind of figured he was going to tell you something like that. I didn't mean to intrude. I know he's your brother, not mine, but he's still kind of mine, too. Keeping an eye on him is kind of all I have right now, at least until we know you guys are all safe. But you know what that's like, I guess." Slight confidence crisis averted, Chris perked back up and took charge again, saying, "Just tell him he's okay. As soon as he told you, I had a friend do some checking for me. Gideon is in the Underworld right now, biding his time until you all get back. You're safe for now. Which brings us to number two: He's _in the Underworld_."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know yet, but whatever it is, it can't be good. My source couldn't tell me any more than that. That, or he wouldn't. I'm kind of in trouble Up There right now, so he's probably trying to keep me from getting into any more. I don't know why. He knows I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but he seems to . . ." Chris rolled his eyes at the gesture, even if he didn't agree with it. "Off track. Anyway, I don't know much more than that at this point. I would try to find out more, but it looks like you and I need to divide and conquer, so to speak. You're on your own to save Wyatt, I get to save Dad."

Thinking back to the drunken hazy memory of the conversation he had with his brother that early, early morning, Christopher wondered again, _How much worse could it get? A lot worse. _"How much trouble do you think he's in Up There? Have we messed things up too much in the timeline?"

Gravely, Chris answered, "I don't know. It depends on who I can get to listen to me, I guess. But I'll do everything I can to get him back home to you. I think you know a little girl who would like to come into existence at some point. Dad kind of needs to be around for that."

Christopher's face immediately perked up, catching on. "Is she okay?"

"She loved the toast," smirked Chris. "Yeah. She's okay. You know I can't tell you any more than that, though, right?"

"Go save Dad," said Christopher by way of answer, knowing that if he didn't send Chris on his way, he wouldn't be able to keep any promises not to ask all kinds of questions, both about Lucy and about all of the mess the entire family was in. Before he could send his twin on his way, though, he couldn't let the guy leave without at least some sort of _Thank You_ and warning. Chris had done so much of the work before he had even come into existence. He knew that. So with nothing but earnestness, he said, "Chris? Be careful, okay? Wyatt will never forgive himself if anything happens to you Up There. He's having a hard enough time with the massive guilt trip he had yesterday. In a lot of ways, we both are."

"Yeah, I know. I heard . . . parts . . . "

From the congregation waiting for them, Freya's airy voice called out, "Chris!"

Without waiting to see what she had to say, Chris called back, "Yep!" His attention back on his other self, he said carefully, measuring his words, "Number three — and this is the biggie here — he's going to try to talk you out of this. You can't let him. This is going to take both of you."

"What are you talking about? How would you know? Considering that I'm the most recent timeline and I haven't been through this, shouldn't this pretty much fall into the '_Uncharted Territory_' realm here?"

"Yes, and no. You and I may not be the same, and our Wyatts may not be _exactly_ the same, but we are. I still am the only person who knows him as well as you do, and my Wyatt made it a lot further down the path to Evil than yours did. I know you can't see exactly what happened to me and my brother, but Freya has and can tell you. If you think about it, you'll know that that's how you knew you could save him, the same way I did. He's been in there the entire time trying like hell to keep you alive. This doesn't change that. He's going to try to talk you out of it. Trust me."

Reluctantly, Christopher agreed. "Okay. So, what does that mean?"

Chris shifted his weight, uncomfortable. He had known, particularly since his death, that he might have to pass this bit of knowledge on to someone in the family. He just never thought it would be to himself. He closed his eyes, trying to warm the block of ice in his gut that wanted to keep him from saying another word. He blew out one really hard breath, opened his eyes, and stared at this older but somewhat less experienced version of himself. "Before I came to the past, my brother did the same. He begged me to find a hole somewhere to hide in until he could fix things, even though we both knew he couldn't. When it was over, he made me promise something to him. I know that if he knew you were about to walk into this situation, he would give you the same advice. So here goes . . ."

While the two older Chrises talked, the youngest of the three started to quietly squirm, looking for some attention but not too much. His big brother seemed to catch on and wasn't nearly as patient or quiet about it. Grateful for the out the opportunity presented, Paige and Phoebe took the boys off to a hut Freya directed them to with plenty of food and naps to come.

Piper watched as the two versions of her son from the future talked animatedly with one another, both of them obviously not liking what the other had to say. A few times, Wyatt even made to start over toward them, but she held a hand on his arm to keep him where he belonged. "If they needed you for this, they would have called you."

Wyatt flinched, both at her touch and at her words. Thankfully for him, the two Chrises returned to the group, neither looking all that happy about their conversation. Wyatt asked the one he had always known as his brother, "What was that all about?"

"You really don't want to know," replied a grumpy Christopher. He tried to give his big brother a somewhat reassuring smile, though, as he said, "C'mon. We need to save your scrawny ass so that the rest of the family can get back to their normal lives." He pushed Wyatt ahead of himself and directed them over to where he and Chris had just come from. As he walked away, he turned around and walked backwards, looking at Chris. "For what it's worth, thanks."

Chris's nod was sharp as he said, "Get it done, for all of us."

"No pressure or anything, right," Christopher half gulped, half smirked.

"None whatsoever," Chris lied through his teeth, eyebrows raised and lips curled in gallows amusement. A strange look came over his face as he called out, "Hey, Wyatt?" When the elder man turned around, looking first at his live then dead brother, Chris said softly, "Take care of him. He's the only brother you're ever going to have, you know."

Wyatt gave Chris a somber nod, unable to say anything else to that. So many things were going to have to go unsaid about that one. He offered Chris a half smile then jogged off to where Christopher was heading back toward the edge of the cliff. To their backs, Chris whispered after them both, "Blessed be."

To get her other warrior back on track, Freya swept in next to Chris and Piper, smiling gracefully at them both. She put a hand on Chris's shoulder, strong and kind at the same time. She didn't know exactly what was going on in his soul at the moment, but she could see a distress in Chris's being that the others could not. She knew that look in his eyes. He didn't want to let go, not yet. She actually wished she could at least have understood his feelings, although she knew she should be glad that she couldn't. She was in control for a reason. His hesitation was costing him time that she knew he didn't have.

Quietly, Freya said, "Chris, you need to go. He needs you."

Upset that she had yet to have any time with her son and incredulous that anyone's needs would come before hers when it came to her son, Piper burst, "_Who_ needs him?"

Chris gave his mother a sad smile to let her know he understood what she meant, even if Freya was a bit surprised at the question. He nodded at the goddess, saying, "On my way." To his mother, he said, "I'll get Dad back for you. Be ready for him. Once he's back, you have a lot of work to do."

With that, Chris disappeared with a wave of Freya's hand.

Piper said bitterly, "You could have at least let me say '_goodbye_'."

"As I understand it," began Freya softly. "Chris has had far too much '_goodbye_' in his lifetime. He makes it a point never to say the words. Given the circumstances, perhaps you should as well. Aren't your lives hard enough?"

Frustrated, Piper asked meanly, "Since when are you an expert on my son? You don't even have feelings."

Instead of reacting tot he obviously hurting mother, Freya said gently, "I have my ways. To put it in your words, I am an '_expert_' on you as well."

Secretly Piper cringed. She hadn't meant to insult the goddess, especially after all she had and was doing for her family. But at the same time, she couldn't help but dislike that look in the Valkyrie's eye. It wasn't exactly malevolent, but it wasn't necessarily the kindest look either.

When Freya saw Piper step back a bit, she took it as a sign to go on. Her expression softened almost immediately as she began, "What I think about you and your family has no real bearing on what is to come in the next few hours and days. Beings with a great deal more powers than I are working both with and against you. I am already doing my part. I cannot interfere more than that. The rest is up to your boys now."

"_Two brothers, two swords_, is that it," asked Piper tiredly.

"Everyone has had a part to play, but yes. It is their future, after all."

"And I'm supposed to just sit here and wait?"

A secret smile played on Freya's lips. Chris had told her she would have to give the mother this advice. She just hoped it was good advice and that Piper would follow it. "You have to let them grow up some time."

**II.**

With all three Wyatt, Chris, and Paige asleep, Phoebe set out in search of her adult nephews. An idea had been niggling the back of her mind since Wyatt's panic attack the day before and she wanted to act on it before she lost the nerve. She found Christopher and Wyatt sitting under a tree, drawing plans in the dirt like little kids planning an assault on a sand castle. She almost didn't want to break them up, but she knew she had something to say that couldn't wait much longer. The closer she got to them, they quickly quieted what they were doing and waited, looking up at her expectantly.

"How's it coming," she asked.

"Eh," grunted Christopher, obviously not happy with the direction so far. "A clue, a clue, my big brother's kingdom for a clue."

"Right. Good luck with that," Phoebe drawled out long and slow. She pursed her lips at the eerie reference and changed gears, kicking her foot gently at Wyatt. "I need to borrow you for a minute. I'll bring you right back, I swear."

The brothers shrugged confusedly at one another, but Wyatt obediently hauled himself to his feet. As his aunt led him away toward the further edges of the jungle path Freya had guided them on, Wyatt gave one more glance over his shoulder at his brother, who he could feel was watching him very carefully. He raised his eyebrows at Christopher, who could only shrug back. This was a new one on them both.

When she thought they were far enough away from everyone, Phoebe turned and leaned her back against a tree. She was still pretty worn out of from her little excursion into Chris's mind and needed to take things as easy as possible. She had a feeling she would be feeling this way for a while. But this was too important, and if it worked, it would be more than worth it.

Seeing his aunt close her eyes in tiredness, Wyatt asked in concern, "You okay?"

"I am, sweetie," she said gratefully, even as she sunk down to the ground. "We just need to sit." Once comfortable, she gestured for her nephew to follow suit. As soon as he was equally settled, she commandingly reached over and took both his hands in hers to keep him from shying away from her touch. Both Chris and Christopher always pulled themselves away whenever someone tried to get too close to them. She had to assume Wyatt would be the same way. She wasn't going to leave it up to chance. She hoped he would understand the comfort she had in her hands as she took his. She was trying to do the right thing here.

Whether it was because he was tentative to say anything or because he was being polite enough to let her speak first since she'd called this meeting, Wyatt sat quietly, intently staring at his aunt. The stare was both interesting and frightening. So many things gone wrong, or just one . . . Until just yesterday this boy had been terrifyingly evil. Phoebe would know. She'd seen it. But then, she'd seen a lot of things.

Carefully, she asked, "So how are _you_ doing?"

"Overwhelmed," the man said without hesitation. "Lost. I don't know. So much is missing, I don't know how to help the way I'm supposed to when I can't remember half of what led up to all of this in the first place. 'like I'm trying to fight the bad guys with one hand tied behind my back."

Sadly, Phoebe smiled at him. "What if I can help you with that?"

"You can give me my memories back? Since when?"

"Oh, no, I can't do that. And, truth be told, I don't think you want them back anyway."

"Christopher said the same thing," Wyatt puffed in irritation. "Why is everyone so afraid of me knowing what happened? Don't I deserve to know what this guy did with my body? Seven years is an awfully long time for him to do the kind of damage he did. He used me to torture and terrorize people for _seven years_, Phoebe. Why shouldn't I know what was done for me?"

Soothingly, Phoebe reached a hand over to cup her nephew's cheek. She ran her thumb over his cheekbone, trying to calm him the best she could. "Because some things in this world are better left unsaid, honey. You have seen through and suffered enough of it, I think."

"So keeping me all cloistered and protected like I'm as helpless as that baby over there is going to help me how?"

"I have an idea," she said slowly. She let her hand fall back into his and squeezed encouragingly. "I have no idea if this is going to work, but I have to at least try. You still have your Whitelighter abilities, correct?"

"Yeah. Those aren't affected by time travel."

"And if I've been paying enough attention over the years to your father, one of your abilities is to sense what your charges are thinking, right?"

"It isn't mind reading or anything, but it's sort of empathic, yeah," the man agreed. "I can only hear words when they're said out loud, but I can usually get a beat on what they're feeling if I concentrate right. Christopher was always better at that than me. He was the one who was more in tune with that half of the gene pool."

Phoebe smiled. "I don't think that's going to matter, not for this. I assume everything about what happened with me yesterday has been explained to you?"

"That you had Chris's memories and feelings and everything," he said, explaining as much as he knew.

"I did," she said. Then slowly, she said, "And I still do."

Worried, Wyatt immediately admonished her, "Phoebe!"

"No, no, it's okay," she quieted him quickly. "It can't hurt me anymore. It's just still there. Nothing new is going to happen. I just remember and can feel it if I think about it." Seeing her nephew relax but still regard her suspiciously, Phoebe smiled again. "It really is okay. I think it's how I can help you."

"How?"

"I want you to use your Whitelighter half to sense for Chris."

"I can't sense the dead."

"Not Up There," she said, shaking her head. She pointed at her own heart and said, "Here. I think that if I can concentrate hard enough on him and feel what he was feeling, you might be able to see something that I would really like you to be able to see. I think that the only way you're going to get through this long enough to help Christopher get us all out of this is for you to know what Chris knew. I think you need this. It won't answer all of your questions, and it won't fill the gaps in your memory, but it will give you something that the rest of us, including Christopher, can't." She saw her nephew open his mouth either to ask a million questions or to protest the entire thing, but she shooshed him with a sharp nod of her head. "I want you to do this, Wyatt. For Chris. He'll know you did this. Trust me; he'll know. I think it would make him happy. Please?"

Wyatt gave his aunt a skeptical crook of his eyebrow, but he did in fact close his eyes to do as she asked. He opened them again quickly to see what she was doing, but her eyes were closed in concentration. Her breathing slowed as she searched for whatever it was that she was looking for until she was in an almost trance-like calm that he could see. Knowing there was no turning back for her, he closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate on finding Chris in her. He thought of the guy who had spent so much time playing with them when they were kids hiding out in the snow gardens. He thought of the guy he had witnessed and since remembered the day before, the guy who had risked everything to help him. He thought of the look on his brother's face as he'd been taken away from him, trying to find that guy who was trying so hard to save him.

Before he knew what was going on, Wyatt could feel something that he didn't expect. He saw in his mind what he imagined came before the scene they'd all witnessed during Phoebe and Chris's life-flashing-before-his-eyes incident the day before. He felt Chris walking through the portal into the future, seeing his evil brother walking out in front of him. He felt Chris's fear, but he mostly felt Chris's conflict. He could feel that, even seeing the evil before him, he still loved the man in front of him too much to do anything but listen. But as soon as he grasped that feeling, he felt his brother's heart sinking in fear and turmoil. He was sitting in a room in the magic school, left alone with the toddler version of himself. No one else was around, but Chris was holding him so tightly that the little one might have suffocated if Chris had gripped him even tighter.

"_I'm running out of time, Wyatt_," he could hear Chris tell his little self. "_I'm so scared. I am running out of time here and I don't know what to do. I know what you told me to do, but I can't. You looked so hopeless that night. I know you meant what you said, but I can't. You can't have been right. I won't let you be right._"

Wyatt felt such terror in his brother's heart. He could tell. Chris was talking without thinking about what he was saying, too afraid to really know what was coming out of his mouth. He was sitting there, rocking the toddler to sleep, rubbing circles on his stomach to soothe them both. He could feel that it wasn't working. Before he knew what was happening, he could feel his brother crying and squeezing the baby even tighter.

"_There isn't enough time. I don't know how to stop this, I can't . . . and there just isn't enough time! What are we going to do?_"

The feeling Wyatt was getting quickly switched, as it did when Phoebe had Chris's memories. He had to follow the feeling to get to what she was seeing, but he eventually found them the way he had before. Sensing distress from Chris, he gripped onto it as tightly as he could until he could form a clear vision of what was going on. In Phoebe's head or Chris's or whoever's, Wyatt found himself in a blackness that sickeningly reminded him of the flashing coldness of his own memories. He tried to keep focus though as he felt that he wasn't alone this time.

It took him a moment, but he realized that the feeling he was getting from Chris was horribly familiar. Chris was fading, quickly, the poison of a Darklighter arrow creeping its way through his veins to his heart. There wasn't much time left at all. In the darkness of what seemed to be a blackened room, Wyatt could feel Chris wanting his brother. He saw a much younger version of himself, maybe sixteen, throw a symphony of orbs into the darkness as he dropped to his knees in front of Chris. The sheer joy Chris felt at that moment was overwhelming to Wyatt. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was important to them both somehow. Wyatt felt the warmth spread through Chris as his other self's hands did their magical healy thing, fighting to bring a weak, terrified Chris back from the brink of the unspeakable. When he was done, Chris clung to him, small and afraid.

"_I didn't think you'd get here_," Chris told his brother, shivering in his brother's arms. "_I felt Mom and then I couldn't feel you or her or anyone._"

"_No matter what happens in this world or any other, Chris, I'll always come for you. Okay? It's just you and me. We're all we've got. Nothing can change that. Hell or high water, little brother. _"

Wyatt knew there was more to the memory, things he probably didn't want to know, but he didn't have the time to concentrate enough to find out what it was. Instead, he held tight onto Chris's essence and let it lead him to where it wanted to go. He could feel that same warmth, only sadder this time, as he heard himself say that same thing to his brother again.

"_You said that to me before_," said Chris, sounding near tears. "_You remember?_"

Wyatt saw his other self nod solemnly, tears in his own eyes. "_I meant it then and I mean it now. When you're there, I want you to remember that. I can't help you there, but I want you to remember this night. That's how I'll come for you. You have to do this for the both of us, but I will never be far, not if you hold on to this._"

"_You were always my big brother, you know. I never thought otherwise._"

Wyatt could feel his brother fighting within himself again. Chris wanted so much for them to be able to sit there and stay that way forever. He wanted them to be able to forgive and forget and let it all be okay. But then Chris's gaze lingered too long on the shocked white hair and scars on his brother's face and knew that there was no way that they could ever let that just be. Without caring what would happen to him if he did it, Chris reached forward and pulled his brother to him in what must have been the first hug they had shared in years. Chris felt like he would explode, there was so much energy going through him, good and bad. Over the years, Chris had wanted to kill him and save him, sometimes both in the same breath. But this was it. This was the moment. Everything came together in that one moment for Chris. Months later, seeing his brother in the attic with Bianca had only been a reminder of what he would one day lose if he hadn't been successful. Everything became about this one moment.

"_I love you, little brother_," the tortured, destroyed Wyatt whispered huskily.

Wyatt felt Chris's heart swell at hearing the words. He'd waited so long to hear those words. Gruffly, Chris had said, "_I love you, too._"

They sat there, Wyatt feeling the joy coming from his brother's memory as he hugged so tightly to his brother. He also felt the sadness and fear take him over once more as his brother said sadly, "_I have to go_."

Chris sniffed and pulled away with foreboding, even if the smart ass in him needed to try to salvage the last few seconds he was to have with his brother. As straight as he could say it, he said, "_I have to save the world._"

The laugh that Wyatt wanted to stifle came out anyway, pulling him away from Chris's mnemonic essence. When he heard Phoebe laugh as well, it severed the connection for good, tumbling them both back out of the netherworld of memory and back into the paradise that was Valhalla. Wyatt fell back a little, overwhelmed. He didn't know what to say, not in the least.

Phoebe collected herself and watched her nephew, trying to gauge what Wyatt was thinking. If the spell had been all about _Personal Gain_ for her, it still had come with something she could use. It wasn't what she'd expected to get out of it, but if it could help Wyatt then it was worth it. Softly, she asked, "Well?"

"I don't know what to say."

"What did you feel?"

"He was scared. He was so scared. I put that there. I made him afraid."

Gently, Phoebe tried to steer her nephew in the right direction. "No, honey, that's not what I was going for there. What else did you feel?"

"When did this become a test? I don't get the right answer and suddenly I — "

"Okay, sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Listen, while all of this has been happening the last few weeks, I've tried to ask Chris a question. I wanted to ask him why he did it. I know all the stuff about wanting to have his family and to have them all be safe, but _why_? I wanted to know what had been so great a motivation for him that he would kill and lie and risk his own existence. I didn't expect to get an answer, but every time I wondered that, that series of memories came back to me, just as I made it do for you. It's usually a quick flash, and I tried to slow it down for you, but it's all there. Everything I needed to know is right there."

"And that is?"

"He didn't do this because he loved you, Wyatt. He did it because you loved him." Phoebe pointed over to where Christopher was sitting with Freya, deep in conversation. "So did Christopher. You didn't hear him yesterday morning. I did. I know he thinks I didn't, but I did. The thing that keeps him going is knowing that, somewhere in all of the confusion and terror and everything that's happened to the two of you, you still love him. You want to know why he's so determined? You want to know why he doesn't want you to know about what happened while you were gone? That's why. Because he knows you love him. And he knows that if you knew the truth, it would destroy you. He would rather hold on to the memory that you loved him and that he has a chance to save you than to have to give you what he would rather be able to take away."

"What is it with this family and martyrdom? Seriously. We need to work on that in this next generation because I know you guys are already doomed." Wyatt looked down at his hands, oddly in the same manner Christopher had a habit of doing. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the pleasure he was getting knowing that his brother had put so much importance in even the hope that they were still brothers. "Okay, so he had a feeling. But how does that help us now?"

"I want you to remember how Chris felt seeing his brother in the attic. I didn't know what it meant at the time. It wasn't until Freya said something about it that I even focused on how changed Wyatt was to him. The two of them agreed that the only way to save themselves was for them to go their separate ways so that, one day, you wouldn't have to. I'm hoping that this is that day. Do this together, knowing that you have a bond that no one, not even the most powerful Elder, can break. That bond between you survived death, it survived torture and unspeakable evils, and it survived to come to you, even if it's only a sensed memory. That's something that even someone like Gideon can't take away. You have to forgive yourself and let that bond do what it was meant to do for you."

Wyatt let the advice sink in slowly, looking for what she wanted him most to see. After a beat, he knew what _he_ wanted to see. Unsure of his footing with his aunt, he asked cautiously, "This isn't a test?"

"No."

"So then there is no wrong answer if I ask you something?"

"What are you thinking?"

Wyatt glanced over in the direction of the brother he had known his entire life and tried to focus on him for a moment. He thought of everything that Chris had gone through for him, of everything that they both had lost. It still seemed so unreal to him in what remained of the haze on his mind, and yet, it seemed so natural. It seemed almost destined that they should be here at the moment, just as Chris and his brother had been that night that they had said '_Goodbye_' to one another forever. He saw his brother gesturing animatedly at the Valkyrie goddess in front of him and got a chill. He didn't know what it was, but something told him that Destiny wasn't just playing with him at the moment. Destiny was trying to hit him over the head with an industrial sized mallet.

Only looking for a little more direction now, Wyatt asked, "Can you do that for me again? I think there's one other thing that you can help me with if you let me see Chris again."

Skeptic but definitely interested, she asked, "Like what?"

"When Chris was rocking me to sleep that day, he said something about his future brother telling him what to do but that he couldn't do it. If I knew what that thing was, maybe it would be what we need to finish this."

"I don't know," said Phoebe, shaking her head.

"Can we try? Please? You've done it once already. It wouldn't be any more of an invasion that it already was." When his aunt still looked at him like she was leery of the idea, Wyatt said, "If you don't, I'll just ask Freya."

"I didn't say I won't do it, Wyatt," Phoebe argued with him like he was still a child pouting over a rained out trip to the zoo. "You have to understand, this isn't exactly an easy thing for any of us. We're all doing our best, but having you sit here and say 'please' is a little much sometimes. I don't know about the others, but I myself am having trouble keeping from flashing back to all of the things we heard about you not forty-eight hours ago. I want to believe that you are asking this for Christopher's good and for your own, but it takes some getting used to. You know what? I'm sorry. Let's start that over again, okay?"

Surprised by her answer, Wyatt's eyes dropped to the grass in front of him. It was really fascinating grass. Softly, he mumbled, "I understand."

"No, honey, you don't, but that's what we're doing here. We're going to fix this so that you never _have_ to understand it." A small grunted laugh escaped her throat. Her nephew looked at her, confused, until she chuckled at him again. "If ever there was a time that I needed to have my powers . . . "

"You're telling me," the man grumped, prompting them both to crack up laughing. The desperation of their situation was suddenly funny beyond all belief, though neither of them really knew why.

When their laughter died down, so did Phoebe's anxiety. Ready to give saving her nephews yet another shot, she said, very gung-ho, "All right, Mister. Go for it. We've got a future to save."

**III.**

Leo had never told anyone about it, but in the moments before he died, he had wished for this. He'd been working on saving the life of one of his soldiers, a guy whose name he didn't even know. He knew that he'd thrown his body over the kid's, who couldn't have been more than nineteen, as another shell hit not too far from where they were. When he'd pulled back up to get back to work, there had been a smile on the boy's face. He'd looked even younger in that moment, but his eyes had looked so old. To keep the boy talking, Leo had asked him, "_What are you thinking about?_"

"_A world without this_," the kid had said. "_I know we'll never see a good world, but do you think there are good people where I'm headed?_"

The question had so surprised Leo, but it had brought a smile to his face, even in the midst of the screams of the battlefield, both human and mechanical. Not twenty feet away, a boy of Leo's own age lay crying, telling the chaplain how much he missed his mother and brother. A flash of thought came to Leo, and he smiled down at the boy he was trying to save. "_You know, I think there are._" He thought of his father and all the good he'd done, of his mother and how kind she had been even on her worst day, and of the people who had come in and out of their house in the parade of travelers during the Depression years. He thought of the kindness of the tall, moustached man who had returned his baseball to him when he'd thought it lost. They would all be going someplace nice with good people when it was their turn. They had to; they were too good not to. Gently, Leo had told the kid, "_I _know_ there are._"

As Leo orbed away from his family in Valhalla to the heavens of Up There, he thought of that kid. He'd had freckles and a scar beneath his lip. He'd been trying so hard to be brave, to not cry for his mother, even though they were so far from home and he'd felt so afraid. But somehow, their conversation had made them both feel better about their world. There were good people out there somewhere, people who had the luxury to never have to think about what was happening to them. It was hard to distinguish good from bad on the battlefield. They knew what they were supposed to think, but how could they know for sure?

It was that question that plagued his mind as he felt his body coming back together out of the shroud of orbs. _Do you think there are good people_? He used to believe that he'd given the kid a good answer. Now he wasn't so sure. He wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. He was, however, quite sure that he wasn't amongst the good people now. Going into this battlefield, he didn't think there were any good people Up Here at all, not after everything he'd seen. And if this was where the good people were supposed to go — what happened to _them_?

The normal drop that Leo felt when he orbed Up There sunk so much deeper than it ever had before. He oddly wondered if he should look down and pick his heart up off the floor because it felt like it had fallen right out of his shoes. For sixty years, this place had been a part of his home. Somehow, he knew that when he left here today, he wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

And somehow, he couldn't be asked to care.

In a safe place behind one of the nondescript white pillars of the Elder haven, Leo still heard the shouts of his family on the island sanctuary below. A few choice words from Piper told him that he wasn't going to fare much better down there unless he came back to them with good news. He quickly realized that this was hardly the time to be worrying about that yet, and tried to block out their demands and questions from his head. His head needed to be Here. This was going to be the deal of his life. He couldn't afford any distractions whatsoever.

The angel stepped out from behind the pillar and glanced around at the others mingling in the gathering hall. No one seemed to notice his arrival. If They had, They were doing Their very best to ignore him. He sensed randomly throughout the group until he found the fellow Elder he was looking for. With one steeling breath, he stormed across the hall and unceremoniously snatched Octavius from the shelter of the group.

"You and I need to talk," Leo fumed as They made Their way toward a private chamber twenty feet away.

For his part, the Elder and ranking member of the Council of Founders let himself be dragged away. In his years, far too many for him to remember exactly how long he had been here at all, none of his charges had ever dared challenge him. To be manhandled by such a small being as this foundling Elder was almost amusing. He had cheered Leo Wyatt on in most of his endeavors over the last sixty years. To have the angel swarming around him like a little summer gnat couldn't hurt. If it ended all of the nonsense from the Charmed Ones, so be it. He'd about had it with that entire family, Charmed or otherwise.

When they were alone, Octavius raised his hands and held them out to his sides in a peaceable greeting that looked much more like a benediction. "Leo? Is there something wrong?"

"I know what You've done."

"I don't — "

"I know _everything_, You sonofabitch!"

Leo's tight-teethed seethe wasn't quite quiet enough. Several robed heads turned in the direction of the foundling Elder and the Councilman. Leo could practically feel Their eyes upon them. In the heat of the moment, he quickly changed courses with his plan an addressed Them all, no longer caring which of Them was directly to blame. In his eyes, They all were to blame. Angry tears egged him on, staining his face with reminders of what his life had become in the last few weeks. His and his loved ones' pain needed to be seen, not hidden from the removed Elders like the pain of the rest of the world. Maybe if They could see what They do, maybe They would finally understand that They cannot mess with people's lives like They did, like the world was a playground or lab experiment. Either way, he was sick of Their bullying.

"Do any of You understand that they were children? They _are_ children!"

Immediately, Leo knew he'd walked right into a trap as the words that had been thrown at him _that_ day fell from the Elder Marv's lips as they had so easily before. "They are all your children, Leo. We cannot distinguish between them. The good — "

"DON'T TELL ME — " Leo started, but collected himself. He would have to at least try to be civil if he was going to get any kind of agreement out of Them. Coolly, he started again, "Do _not_ tell me that any of this was for anyone's good. It wasn't for a greater good. It was a misguided attempt at self-preservation, nothing more, and You know it!"

One of the few friends Leo had ever felt he'd had Up There spoke up, coming out from behind the circle that was gathering around the grieving father. His eyes were kind and as close to understanding as an Elder's could be as he said, "They don't all know, Leo."

"Zola?"

"It was the Council, Leo. When Chris began his journey to save his brother, he did not know which of Us were responsible. Only the Council was aware of the attempts to understand Wyatt's place in the world."

Accusingly, Leo asked, "How would you know?"

In a stage voice, Zola announced, "This is between Leo and the Council of Founders. The rest of you, you have charges to look after. Your business here is over." Without argument, the rest of the Elders and even a few Whitelighters scattered around the hall to whatever duties They had been in the middle of performing when They had been interrupted. As holes appeared in the circle, twelve bodies remained surrounding Leo. Zola smiled again at the boy he had watched grow up, a hint of sadness there in his eyes. If only things had worked out as intended. Leo had always been meant to be _his_ charge, not Gideon's. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. And yet, there was nothing to be done now but try to fix things as he'd been trying now for much longer than any of the others knew.

Carefully, Zola guided Leo into the anteroom away from the prying ears of the others, just in case. The other members of the Council followed behind, faces hidden under hoods. When They had all entered and the door was shut behind Them, Zola began, "Leo — "

"You killed my son. You looked into the future and saw — I don't know — _something_, and you tried to kill Wyatt before he was even born!"

"He is evil, Leo," started the small, wrinkled old man Leo only knew by name, Al.

"NO, HE ISN'T!"

"We saw it," said Al again in that same eerily calm voice the other Elders all had as well. It was spooky the way They all seemed to be in a trance when They talked, which only served to anger Leo even more. For the first time in his very long life, the serenity seemed so phony he wanted to wretch right over all of Their holier-than-thou Birkenstocked feet.

The words came out as Leo was thinking them, putting together the pieces that he guessed he would have heard from Freya had he stayed around to ask the right questions. He didn't know how he knew he was right, but he did. Seeing his brethren for the first time as They truly were, Leo accused Them all: "You saw the future that You created! You saw what would happen if you tried to kill Wyatt. I still don't know how he found out, but that's what Chris discovered. He knew You were responsible for what happened to all of us, to Paige, to the world. You released the Titans. You are responsible for that world. Chris never would have tried to confront You if You hadn't created all of the mess that his world had been in. Wyatt certainly wouldn't have tried to save him from dying at Your hand. Wyatt was never responsible for that world that Chris came from; he never had a choice in becoming what he became, not when You had Gideon dogging him and losing his brother being his only other option. There was never a choice for either of them, all because of You!"

From the doorway, a small but confident voice said, "You forgot the part where, had my brother not come back from the future to warn me, he would have killed me, after pretty much giving up his own soul to save mine. And you forgot the part where They erased my memories of all of it. But otherwise, you're doing a pretty good job catching us all up."

Leo blinked a couple of times in the direction of his son, who had slipped into the doorway at some point that no one noticed. He looked into the boy's eyes, saw immediately what he was looking for, and breathed, "Chris?"

Casually, the man crossed the distance between himself and his father. When he reached Leo, he clapped the angel's shoulder in a reassuring sign then said, "I've got this, Dad."

"Chris?"

The newly-dead boy glanced around the room at the hooded figures until he found the one he was looking for. With a lower, almost growled tone to his voice, he said, "We've been doing this now for a few weeks, haven't we, Octavius?"

"To which We have all told you, young man, this discussion is not at all warranted. We do not answer to lower beings such as yourself."

Chris narrowed his eyes on the Elder he now knew to be the Chairman of the Council of Founders. Slowly, carefully, he said, "Maybe not, but you do have to answer to the other Elders and the Whitelighters. And I'm thinking it's about time that They got to hear about what's been done in Their name lately." With a wave of his hand, the twelve foot high double doors that closed them off from the rest of the heavens opened. A few heads turned in their direction as Chris called to them, "You guys might want to hear this!"

As one of the few on the Halliwells' side, Zola tried to hide a smile at the same time as he chastised Chris, "This is between you and the Council, Chris. The balance is going to be hard enough to restore after the breech in trust of a very select few. Please, let's not make this any harder than it should be."

Incredulous, Leo said, "Balance? Is that all is this is to you? Gideon was one of You. This 'very select few of You' murdered my son! You kidnapped the other. But all You can talk about is balance? Do You have any idea what You — "

Putting a staying hand on his father's forearm, Chris stepped forward in an attempt to at least partially shield his father from view of the others. He was more dead than his father. Leo needed to be a lot more careful than he did, especially if he wanted to be only dead enough to still see his kids grow up. When his father did in fact stop, Chris told Zola with wry, measured words, "It's kind of interesting having my memories back now that I'm dead. It seems to me that you told me the same thing when I confronted you before. How many more times are we supposed to replay all of this before you straighten up this mess you created?"

There was a certain amusement that Leo got from hearing his son address the Elders in such a way. He didn't hear the automatic capital letters in Chris's speech that seemed to edge his own pronouncement of their names after sixty-plus years of service. To Chris, his superiors weren't 'the Elders' or 'You' or 'They' to him; they were just 'you'.

Al piped up at the child who dared to question Their authority, "There would be no replays, as you have called it, of any of this had you let us do what was necessary in the first place."

Still attempting to keep his cool (although Leo could see his boy was getting very, very close to losing it), Chris asked, "Who gave you the authority to do anything? Until he accepted his duties as Whitelighter, my brother was of no concern to you. Beyond his responsibilities to the magical world — which he was in no way prepared to fulfill before he was even born, thank you very much — he was none of your business."

The old, old man's eyes nearly fell out of his head at the audacity of the child's remarks. He stammered, "You . . . You _dare_ to q-question the authority of this _council_?"

"The way I understand it, Wyatt was a gift to my parents from the angels of Destiny for, among other things, everything that they had suffered under your thumb. I realize that that sounds ridiculous and over-sentimental because every parent thinks their kid is a gift, but in Wyatt's case, it was literally true. Forget the prophecies for a moment, because, quite frankly, I don't think they're worth the paper they're supposedly written on. Destiny brought Wyatt into this world, not the high and mighty elders. You had no right to interfere."

Leo didn't exactly realize the effect that his son's words were having on him until it was too late. He felt such an anger building in him, something he knew he had only felt in one moment during his entire eighty-seven years. Without thinking about it at all, his fingers started twitching. Lightning started crackling in between his knuckles, snapping in the air.

Chris felt the energy building in his father, but wasn't immediately sure what it was. Just like he was with his brother, he was connected to his father through their altered Elder genetics. As he could sense when one of his charges was in trouble, he could feel it now in his father. At first he thought it was only anger, justifiable and relatively harmless. Then he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, not from chills but from the electric current that was balling his father's hands into fists. He felt himself trail off, his father's pain too much of a distraction for him to continue his rant against the Founders' Council. After a quick glance at his grieving father, Chris stopped altogether and planted himself at his Leo's side.

"Dad," started Chris softly, almost in a whisper that might as well have been a shout in the stunned silence of the anteroom. It seemed that the other Elders in the room were paying at least a little attention to the Wyatt men, even if it was only because it was Their lives under threat.

Leo started to charge forward, unable to hold in his rage any longer. Words weren't working. Maybe a little good old fashioned wall to wall counseling would. His fists finally lit up, ready to take out anyone who got in his way.

Before he could get too far, Chris grabbed his arm. "Dad, no."

Leo whipped his arm from his son's grip, turning on him with wild eyes.

"Dad!" Chris pulled roughly on his father's arm, half dragging him away and behind a pillar. He knew the others weren't going anywhere; they could finish this when Leo was calmed down again. It wasn't like he didn't have an entire afterlife to get something accomplished. Once his back was shoved up against the pillar, Leo struggled against his son's grip, forcing Chris to grab the man's chin to get his attention. He held his father's face so tightly in his hand that he startled himself. He had never manhandled his father in his life, except for that time in the spider demon's cave. But just as he had done with Phoebe, he had this one last chance to take charge and he wasn't going to waste it.

"Dad, you need to hear me. I don't know if you were right about it then, but you're right about it now: my coming here wasn't only to save Wyatt; it _was_ to save us, too. I can't do that if you're dead. There is no future for Wyatt and Christopher if you die up here today. You need to calm down, and you need to get back down there. They don't have much time. Gideon is on to them. You have to go, now, before you do something you can't take back."

Frustrated beyond all belief, Leo snapped, "And then what?"

"What?"

"And then what, Chris? What do I do then? I'm done exchanging one set of lives for another. This has to end."

In one of the few times that Chris knew he could allow himself to really need his father in this time, he completely let himself go. The vulnerability in his voice hurt his own ears, so he could only imagine what it was doing to his father as he said, "Please? I have never asked you for anything, but I'm asking now. I don't know what's supposed to happen to Christopher, Wyatt, Lucy, and me with all of our timelines so screwed up, but I know that we all want the same thing; we all want our big brother to be safe. We want our parents to be there for us not just when we're growing up. I never got to know you, not really. I know that now. I never knew the guy that you are now. I never got the chance. I was too busy getting shuffled from one safe house to another, being kept away from you for so many reasons that . . . That part doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you have this last chance to fix it all. Please, let me fix things up here so that we can all go home. You aren't needed up here. You're needed down there."

Leo's voice was downright furious as he asked his child, "And do what? Abandon you again?"

Chris blinked at his father, surprised. After a quiet beat, he narrowed his eyes. "You didn't abandon me. I told you to go. Sure, I needed you, but Wyatt needed you more."

"You're a twenty-three year old kid, _my _twenty-three year old kid. I never should have listened to you."

The logic of it, though secretly heartwarming to Chris, was still crazy monkey logic at best. Bluntly, he asked, "What about Wyatt? Were you supposed to leave my two year old brother to fend for himself? You may want to be Superdad, but even Superdad can't be in two places at once."

"There had to be another way."

A gentleness overcame Chris as he looked at his father, seeing now how badly the angel was beating himself up. He'd known it was bad; he just didn't know how bad. He'd been so busy watching Wyatt over the last three weeks that he had hardly had time to concentrate on what was happening with everyone else. Okay, that was a lie. He could have paid attention but didn't want to. He hadn't wanted to see what his death was going to do to them. It was like what he imagined it was like to watch your own funeral. It was just too creepy and seemed like such an invasion. But now, seeing the angry guilt manifesting in the still crackling blue of lightning between his father's knuckles, Chris wished he would have paid a lot more attention . . . and that there was something he could have done about it. Soothingly, he tried to help his father in the only way he knew how — with brutal honesty. "There was no other way."

"There had to be. There had to be a way that we could have saved you both."

"Even if there was, we didn't find it."

Leo choked, "You're my son, my responsibility."

"So is Wyatt."

"I should have found a way."

Chris's voice was still low and calm as he said, "Dad, I . . . You tried. You did everything you could. You still are. Wyatt survived the day, and right now, I need you to go back and help him to survive the rest of however many days are his to have. Please, do this for me." Trying desperately now to get his father back on track, Chris laid down the guilt trip that he knew would kick his father into gear, the one that he knew he was only ever going to be able to play the once. Even though it bothered him to be so blatantly manipulative of his own father now, he knew he had no other choice. He forced a little extra pathos into his voice as he said, "You have to take care of him down there for me because I can't, not anymore."

The fight now going out of his hands, Leo started sadly, "Chris — "

"I'm a big boy. I can handle myself up here just fine."

Leo looked at the determined set to his child's eyes, the ones so like his mother's and his own, and knew then that he _did_ still have a chance to save both sons. The strength recovered in his voice as he decided for them both, no arguments accepted, "Wyatt is protected in Valhalla, especially with your mother, aunts, brother, and Christopher there. I'm not leaving here until you are safe as well."

"Not necessary."

"I'm your father. Of course it is."

A bashful but grateful smile flooded Chris's features before he could stop it. "Thanks, Dad." With a half a chuckle, he looked down at his father's hands pointedly and said, "Now put those things away before you hurt someone." When he got the laugh that he wanted, the one that broke the tension and relaxed his father, he grinned even more. With a nod around the pillar toward where the council members were still milling around agitatedly, he asked, "Ready for round ten?"

"Ready when you are."

"They won't know what hit them," said Chris with a wink. Without any further motivation, he stepped out from behind the pillar and marched across the room, not a hint of doubt in his movements. Leo followed close behind, ready to help his son but willing to let him be in charge of his own destiny for once. For the first time, it felt good. He didn't know how long that feeling would last, but for now, it was nice.

When he was about to breach the group, Chris called out cheerily, "Okay, boys, let's talk!"

After a quick raised set of eyebrows of obvious enjoyment from Zola, the Elder said, "Chris, I realize that you are in a delicate situation here, but it might be wise to remember to speak with at least a modicum of respect. Whether you agree with their tactics or not, the members of the Founders' Council are still the guiding force in the world of good."

"Watch my language; got it," said Chris sharply. "So here's how it's going to work: This time, no interruptions. I talk, you listen." He paused for a moment, looking for argument. A few mouths opened in protest, but Zola's steadying hand stopped them and told Chris to go on. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he started, "For the last three weeks, you've blown me off. This time, you're going to listen to me. Considering that, among all of us, I'm the only one here who has actually _been_ to the future, I think I'd know a lot more about it than any of you would. So here's a little glimpse into the future for you: one of the lessons you're all so fond of trying to teach Phoebe is that gazing into the future, with premonitions or otherwise, is guess-work at best. Her visions are one possible future, should she be unable to fix what it is you want her to fix. Did it never occur to you people that the thing you saw in the future was only one possible outcome with me?"

Interrupting despite the request to do otherwise, Zola asked, "With _you_?"

"Yeah, that tidbit seems to get left out of the history books up here, doesn't it? What Octavius and his Council O'Busybodies here saw that first time they dropped their crystal ball was me storming around up here, killing all of them after finding out that they had set the Titans free in the first place. Only they didn't realize that I wasn't Wyatt. They thought I was him come to destroy them. That's why they took their little _'Kill Him Before He Kills Us'_ stance. They sent Gideon to the demon who set the Titans free to give them specific order to kill Wyatt. They created that future."

For the first time in the entire two years that he had known his son, Leo heard guilt in the witch's voice. It was something that, if he didn't know Chris at least as well as he did, he never would have heard it, but it was there. Not once in all of this had it ever crossed Leo's mind that his son could feel in any way guilty or responsible about what had happened to his brother. Granted, Chris hadn't had the memories that had been stolen from him upon his arrival, but still. There had always been determination, sadness, and a great deal of over-protectiveness, but never had there been guilt. To hear the slight crack of it in his son's voice now toppled the tower of pain that he had been building over the last three weeks. He knew then; no matter what, there was no getting any of this back. The Elders could welcome him back with open arms, swear to never interfere again, and everyone could make amends, but it would never, ever erase this. There was absolutely no going back.

Not knowing what his father was thinking about, Chris was still going on, all of the pieces together for him now that he had his memories. "Only, I never got around to taking any of you out, did I? I was too young when I found out what was going on. Granted, it would have been warranted, if you ask me. Everything I had in my life was gone but Wyatt, and that was only because the few of you who had lived that long had forced Dad to put us into hiding. You thought we'd keep each other out of trouble long enough for you to figure out what do to about me — or Wyatt, according to whatever crack you were smoking that day you saw me. You never imagined that I would actually find out and tell Wyatt all about what I knew. You never thought I would put that kind of idea into his head, knowing how unstable our lives already were because of everything you had done to us. But then, I never imagined he would try to save me by taking my place, either. You got that part, right? My brother pretty much gave up his soul to save me _from you_. Not that it was too hard for him to give up, not after what Gideon did to him."

Leo knew that the '_No Interruptions_' rule wasn't intended for him, and quietly interrupted, needing an answer. He needed to know if his son had been forced to live, twice, with what Gideon was currently doing to his son now. The thought of the scars and terror done to his boy's body made the question burn for him. He had to know, especially now that Chris remembered everything. He needed to know _everything_. "What did he do?"

Chris gave his father a dark look, one that hurt Leo to look at. He wasn't going to like the answer at all. But Chris also knew that Freya was right; his father needed to hear it all now that it was something he was able to tell. His voice was a little more gentle, at first, as he directed the answer first to his father then to all. "We were right that day. When they gave their little crystal ball another rub and realized that their efforts hadn't saved themselves from me or Wyatt, Octavius and a few of the others got it into their heads that they needed to find another solution. The idea was to snag Wyatt and bring him up here where they could do whatever it was that they thought they needed to do to force him to be good. Only that's where things got tricky. They didn't know just how crazy Gideon had become. Instead of bringing Wyatt up here to torture, he took him down to the Underworld to do it there. Dad, we were right. Gideon had him for almost ten days before you could find him. By then, Gideon had worn him down so much that it wasn't all that hard for him to take almost immediate control instead of having to wait it out like he has in Christopher and Wyatt's timeline." A darkness that Leo didn't recognize in his son, one that glared of hatred and fury took over Chris's entire frame as he turned his generally well-controlled anger on the council members. "We were right."

Zola saw the look as well and took a few steps closer to Chris, trying to be the peacemaker between them all. "And that's something we're all — "

"I SAID — " started Chris warningly. He had died because of these people; he was going to have his say whether they liked it or not. Tensely, he said, "'_No_ interruptions'. But hey, I guess that's okay because it makes it a little easier for me to get to the point. None of this had to happen in the first place . . . or second place, however you want to look at it."

Again Zola interrupted, but this time it was a question, not an interruption. "Chris?"

"Yeah, that's the other part that seems to get left out of the Council Press Packets, isn't it," said Chris with an extra bite directed at Octavius. He really hated that guy. Granted, no one knew why but himself, Wyatt, Freya, and the Elder. This was one secret that none of the others could possibly know. Well, it was about damned time they learned. He kept his eyes glued to a suddenly nervous-looking Octavius as he announced to the others, "Wyatt asked him to put an end to all of this a year before I even came here."

"_What?!_" Leo's jaw dropped as he reached forward, grabbed his son by the shoulder, and turned the witch around to face him. "He did _what_?"

Chris took a step back so that he was even with his father. This was getting to the part that he knew his father knew nothing about. Freya was right; he deserved to know, if for no other reason than that maybe then Leo would understand why he had fought so hard to save his brother, even after his own death. The other Elders deserved to hear this as well. So much had been done in their name that it was only right that they should know.

"In our altered timeline, the one _I_ remember where Wyatt came up here instead of me, Wyatt would eventually kill me. After he did, he spent a year trying to find a way to stop all of this from happening. That includes coming to the past to try to fix it, although he did it differently than I did. He went straight to the source." Chris now turned a dark eye on Octavius, accusing him directly in front of all of the others. His finger jabbed at the councilman's chest, telekinetically shoving him back and back until he backed into another pillar. "The night he came to me to send me back here he told me that he had tried already to reason with you. He stood there in front of you, the future you created manifested right in front of you, and begged you to stop it all before it could start. If only you didn't set the Titans free, none of it would happen. Paige wouldn't have died; Gideon never would have kidnapped him. All of the fallout from that decision you made to kill him wouldn't have to happen if you could just see reason. All you did was throw that word in his face that you have labeled him with since before he was even born."

"Abomination," the Elder seethed.

"Yeah, that one, jackass. You reversed his time-travel spell without even hearing him out. That was when he knew that he had to get me to do it instead of him. He thought that if you didn't know who I was, you would listen to me. He didn't know that you had mistaken me for him, and since knew who I was. Of course, it would have helped if you hadn't erased my memories when I got here. Once the sisters defeated the Titans, I could have helped you then if you weren't so damned determined to erase my brother's existence."

"Is this true," asked the Elder called Sandra. She drew down her hood to reveal a very concerned face under amusingly (to Chris) static-afflicted blonde hair. She sounded both aghast and saddened when she turned on her boss. "Could all of this have been avoided?"

Fiercely, Octavius snapped, "Even if it is, at least one of those boys has been lost to the darkness in every time line we have encountered. It is my duty to make decision about what is good and right for the world and that is what I have done."

"By dragging me in here and erasing my memories of everything about you and what I'd learned," accused Chris. "If you had let me talk to the others, if I could have been allowed to tell them something besides name, rank, and serial number, we might have been able to find Gideon — "

Before his Elderly calm could keep him from speaking out, Octavius spat, "You were never supposed to find out about Gideon. If you had only returned to the future as you were told — "

Leo's stomach turned to ice as he marveled out loud, "That was why you kept planting it in my head that Chris was a danger to us. You were afraid he'd find you out again, even without the knowledge Wyatt had given him."

"But he couldn't be too obvious about it without making everyone else suspicious of why he wanted me gone," added Chris.

With deception upon deception exposed, it was Zola who stepped into the center of the circle of accusers and accusees. "Mistakes have been made. Because of them, lives and trusts have been broken and lost. What we need to do now is find a way to repair the damage, right here and now, so that both parties will be satisfied. Can we all agree to those terms?"

Sensing the political coup that was happening before his eyes, Chris gave his full attention to Zola, Octavius now forgotten in his mind for all purposes but revenge. He crossed his arms over his chest and asked the angel, "Where do we start?"

Sandra sidled up next to Zola and asked, "What do you want?"

"What I've wanted from the beginning: for my family to be safe."

"No retribution," she asked, almost like it was a test. After all, this had started with the vision of the future of the boy in front of her come to destroy them all. It was a fair question.

Not willing to fall into her trap, Chris said strongly, "I — Want — My — Family — _Safe_. And my father. I want you to let my father be free to be a husband and father to his family. He can balance his job and family life just as well as an elder as he did as a Whitelighter. Give him back to my family. If he wants back, that is."

Before Leo could answer for himself one way or another, the elder Odin (who Chris always thought looked like Q) blurted, "Impossible! No Elder has ever left the ranks before, not if he remained on the side of Good. Being an Elder is Leo's destiny. He cannot turn his back."

Chris snapped back, "Okay, first? Stop talking about either of us like we are your property to order around. Second, no elder has been married, let alone a father before. Precedent doesn't work here. Never has, never will, not when it comes to us."

An Elder Chris didn't even know, young looking and soft spoken, suggested, "Does this have to be decided right this minute?" He saw everyone blink at him in surprise (apparently he didn't talk much) and went on, "A lot of issues are ahead of us. Chris is right; this is new to us all. Gideon and Octavius betrayed us all, the Halliwell family most of all. That _should_ be dealt with, harshly, and I think it's something that the family should be at least somewhat a part of. But what happened _is_ in the past; it cannot be changed without going through drastic measures. The immediate issue should be the safety of the children. And they should be _kept_ safe. No matter what may or may not happen in the future — which has not happened yet despite this boy's presence — these children as they are now are the future of magic and the future of Good. They need to be protected. Whatever his thoughts about us and our mission, Leo is needed down there with his family to see that that mission is carried out."

It sounded more than reasonable, for the moment, to both Chris and Zola. Leo, however, was suspicious enough to ask, "And then?"

"Excuse me?"

"After that, Xavier, what happens to us? After Gideon is gone, what happens to me then? Am I going to be dragged back up here kicking and screaming? It's not as if you haven't done that to me before."

The young elder was visibly careful not to look at his brethren as he said, "I think it would serve the greater good of _all _involved if we took a light sabbatical from one another. Tempers on all sides need time to cool." He looked at both Chris and Leo, asking, "Would that be acceptable to you?"

"I'll be left to my family and the safety of my children?"

"Yes."

Coolly, Chris said, "He doesn't come back to the negotiating table without me."

"Of course," agreed both Zola and the peacemaker as several other who had carefully stayed out of things nodded their silent agreement.

Still suspicious, Chris barked, "I mean it. My family stays safe. Any change in status involves me. I didn't die for them to let things fall apart anyway."

Zola grinned at Chris mischievously. "Don't worry, Chris. We haven't forgotten you or what you've done. But for now, I think we can all agree that there are more pressing issues at hand. Xavier is right; Little Wyatt especially needs protection now. He needs an end to this nightmare once and for all. The rest can wait until you as a family are settled and have had the opportunity to adjust and grieve. Go safe your family. Blessed be."

Leo was more than happy to that the out. He stepped back and waited for Chris to start out so that he could watch his son's back, but Chris apparently wasn't finished. "One more thing?"

"Yes," asked Zola.

Chris tried to keep the delicious taste of revenge out of the back of his throat as he added on to the list. "Barbas doesn't skate on this one. He tried to kill my brother, too. The vanquish sticks this time."

"You know he can always come back," started Sandra distractedly, who was splitting her attention between her lost souls and the two elders who were manhandling Octavius to pull him through a door at the opposite end of the anteroom. As the door slammed shut, she put her focus back on Chris, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes at the sound. "Barbas is made of fear, Chris. We cannot vanquish true fear, no matter how much even We wish it."

"No," admitted Chris. "Fine. But he can go away for a long time. The sisters have done it before. Allow them to do it again."

The woman tried to sound reasonable, even in the face of some very angry Halliwells. "I understand why you want this for your family, Chris. I think We all do. However, as Elders, We cannot be in the business of making backroom deals, even if it serves the greater good. What Gideon did did not set only your world on its head, young man. _Two_ worlds were sent into complete chaos. Leo's act alone could not repair the damage that was done. Many agreements had to be reached to put right what went wrong."

"Barbas getting out alive was one of them," asked Chris bitterly. Almost to himself, he said, "You're on the council. You knew that I'd want a deal and so would Barbas. Of course you'd want that off the table." As an afterthought, he added, "And don't call me '_young man_'."

"Leo," the woman started, hoping to calm the Elder's son down with a little help from her brethren, but Chris was apparently not going to be interrupted.

"You and I both know that other than maybe losing some voting power or something, nothing is going to happen to that jackass Octavius. You owe us one."

In his anger, Leo had temporarily put Barbas to the back of his mind to focus on his brethren, but now that the fear demon was back to the forefront, he was boiling over again. With a glacial glare, Leo spat, "I — Want — Barbas."

Chris smirked, "You know we're going to go after him with or without your consent. You might as well give us this one."

Odin said, "Gideon is yours. Why don't we worry about Barbas once Gideon has been dealt with?"

"No," argued Leo. "I want an answer on Barbas now. I want to know if I'm on my own."

"It might go a long way toward getting at least one of the sisters back," suggested Chris slyly.

Again Xavier interrupted, trying to keep the peace as long as possible, considering how fresh it was. "What you do with your sabbatical is your business."

Hearing his mother's worried cries for his father, even over the objections being shouted throughout the chamber, Chris said quickly while practically dragging his father out the door, "Sounds great. We'll get right on that. Have your people call my people when we need to finish this discussion. Really, it's been enlightening."

As the double doors shut behind them, Leo asked for an explanation, "Chris?"

"You've been up here too long. Mom's worried. We weren't going to get anything else out of them right now anyway. They need you back there."

"Leo? Chris? Wait," called Zola from the door. Catching up to them, he gave Leo a genuine smile, hoping it would ease his young friend's tensions. "I hope that one day this will all be something that we can put behind us. You still have good works to do, Leo, whether you know that right now or not. I hope that you will find it in your heart to reconsider your position and join us again."

Without actually saying the word 'no', Leo told the angel in no uncertain terms, "I'm always going to be a father first. You have to know that by now."

"I do. One day, the others will as well."

Leo nodded, wanting to end their friendship on a somewhat cordial note. He knew he wouldn't be returning to the heavens even after all of it was said and done. He'd quite simply lost his faith and there was no getting it back. An entire lifetime of love and happiness with his family still wouldn't erase any of this. His faith in the Elders to be the force for good in the world that They had been assigned to be was shattered. And just like Humpty Dumpty, there was no putting it back together again. Maybe They couldn't understand that, but then, They didn't have a toddler and infant at home whose reading habits made sure that he did.

As he walked away, he was joined by his son at his side. They didn't say anything at first, just walked toward the great doors at the end of the hall. Not that they needed to say anything. Sometimes, it was better not to say anything at all. This was shaping up to be one of those times. Besides, they were happy just to be together, both of them leaving in one piece and their safeties secure.

The closer they got to the doorway, Chris's eyes narrowed at the figure he knew was waiting for him. He hadn't known her for very long, but he knew Prue when he saw her. It was hard not to. She had been the center of a good many stories his mother had told him in his lifetime, and she'd been remarkably good to him since his shuffling off of the mortal coil. When she saw that he saw her, she walked over and smiled at her brother-in-law for the first time in nearly four years. "Hi, Leo. Good to see you."

"Prue?"

Sensing the _What are you doing here_ in his question, she smiled and nodded at Chris. "I'm here to take the kid back."

As much as he'd dreaded the moment, Chris tried his best to shrug off his sadness. After all, this wasn't really the end. Death hadn't been the end for his grandmother and great-grandmother when it came to their family; it wasn't going to be his end, either. He tried to sound easy about it as he told his father, "This is where I get off. I've done all I can for you and for them. I'm lucky to have even gotten by with as much as I have. I know that."

Already knowing that tone in her nephew's voice all too well, Prue gave Chris an angry eyebrow. He was definitely trying to get something in there that he knew he shouldn't, but he was going to try anyway. Not that she blamed him. This situation had to be getting old for him. Her warning was given purely from an _I'm your aunt so I have to say this_ standpoint as she told him with thinly disguised encouragement, "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"It isn't for me," argued Chris. "It's for him."

"Three weeks we've had you and already you're going to get us killed," smiled the woman. She ruffled her nephew's hair, not caring that they were barely ten years apart in age. He had an entire afterlife to get used to it. Her face spread out in a wide beaming grin, though, as she said, "I'm so proud."

"It's not _that_ good." To his father, Chris said, "Tell Wyatt and Christopher that Gideon is wounded. As soon as you all left to go to Valhalla, he's been in the Underworld trying to recuperate. Little Wyatt really hurt him the last time he tried to vanquish him."

"That's what Wyatt's doing?"

"After hearing what Wyatt said yesterday, my guess is most of the time, Gideon looks like me to him. He's seen enough vanquishes in his life already that if what he thinks was only a knife worked on me, he probably thinks it should work on the guy he thinks is me. At least, that's what I can figure."

Leo narrowed his eyes at his son, not sure if this was going to be an answer he wanted. It seemed to him like one of those many secrets that Chris had always kept from them, but he couldn't understand how he would know this one. "How do you — "

Firmly, Chris said, "Until all of this is over, both here and there, I'm not taking my eyes off Wyatt for one second. Like I told Phoebe, my big brother has his own personal guardian angel now. I can't see Gideon myself, but I can sense Wyatt enough to know what's going on. I had some help from a friend who was able to find out what he's been up to since you left."

Prue smiled even as she tapped her nephew on the elbow. "Speaking of which, we really need to get going."

Chris nodded, knowing this was really it. He tried to laugh it off as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Yeah. I've got an afterlife to start living."

Unwilling to let his last chance get away from him, Leo didn't hesitate to pull his child into his arms. He held him tightly, probably cutting off all air if Chris had needed to breathe anymore. Fiercely, he said into his son's hair, "I love you."

Finally rendered speechless, Chris just hugged his father tighter. Prue gave them a moment before putting a hand on her nephew's shoulder, helping him to disappear with her back to where he now belonged. With his arms once again hugging air, Leo sighed heavily. He knuckled the tears away from his eyes and gave himself a mental kick back into gear. One kid saved; three more to go. Without looking back, he orbed out of the heavens back to Valhalla and the family awaiting his return.

As soon as she heard the jingle and saw the orbs, Piper stormed over to her husband, absolutely livid, until she saw the look on his face. There was something there that chilled her. She immediately felt in the back of her heart that it was all beginning again. She was going to lose him again, this time, his memory and more. Angry, she first slapped him good and hard across the face, as if that could shock his memory back to him. Then, more terrified than angry, she folded herself into his arms, needing to feel that he had indeed returned to them at all. Tired of the emotional roller coaster that had been her life for the last few weeks (and then some), she said quietly, "Tell me you're okay."

"We made a deal," said Leo as he kissed her hair, understanding everything she was thinking and more.

"What kind of deal?"

"One that I think is going to keep everyone happy at least for now." Without elaborating any further, Leo asked, "Where are the boys? We have a lot to do and a lot less time to get it done than we thought."

**IV.**

As the sun set on another beautiful day in Valhalla, Freya took a hand of both Wyatt and Christopher, her smile wishing them on. "I won't see you again," she started. "Not for a very long time. Trust each other and trust yourselves. This will end the way it was meant to."

"Thank you," said Wyatt.

"And you'll take care of them once we're gone," asked Christopher. "Twenty-plus years is a long time to leave them to their own devices, if you haven't noticed."

"I have some of my best architects working on plans for your sanctuary now. That said, I'm going to hold on to the hope that you won't be needing it any longer." Carefully, the goddess placed a kiss on the forehead of each of the two boys, giving them her blessings for their battle to come. "I've done all I can do for you for now. Good luck. Now go. Your destinies await."

With a brief nod toward their anxiously waiting parents, Wyatt and Christopher orbed away from the island paradise and into the attic with stuttering orbs like a couple of adults who cautiously dip a single toe into the pool to test the temperature instead of jumping in carefree like their kids. Cautiously, their eyes searched the room once again for the thing that had once been their father's friend. Wyatt, in particular, was nervous as he tried to concentrate on the source of the chill that ran up his spine. He couldn't be sure if he was more nervous that he didn't sense Gideon or that he knew he would be soon if he wasn't already. He was so damned cold and had been ever since he could remember that he just wanted to be warm again.

_I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks. I do, I do, I do believe in spooks._

Shut up.

_I'd turn back if I were you_.

Seriously, shut up.

_You're a coward, Halliwell, and you know it. Your brother knows it. They all know it. Give it up._

"Oh, shut up," Wyatt barked with exasperation at that little voice in the back of his head, even though he knew it was his own and not Gideon's. They were both annoying at this point, no matter whose side they were on.

"What's wrong," Christopher immediately asked.

"I can't put my own personal Jiminy Cricket from Hell on mute."

Christopher tried to get his brother to relax, even if just for a moment. With a crooked smile, he said, "I always told you that motor-mouth of yours would get us into trouble one of these days." When Wyatt only gave him a pained look back, Christopher quickly clapped his brother on the shoulder before resuming their search. "It's going to be okay."

"You can't promise that."

"No . . . " shrugged the younger of the brothers. Working out his next move even as he said it, Christopher sounded almost optimistic saying, "I can't promise anything. I don't know what's going to happen. But honestly? Right now, all I need to know, I already do. I got to hear _your_ voice again. I saw _you_ again. After everything we've seen in the last few days, do you want to tell me I'm wrong?"

"No."

"Well, then, tell that stupid little cartoon to shut his yap because you have more important things to do than listen to him yammer at you all night. I need your concentration here. He's going to have to take a number."

As Christopher backed away from him with an encouraging (if deceptively over-confident) grin, Wyatt looked at his little brother and wondered what the other version of himself had thought that night he'd sent his kid brother off to the past and what was most certainly the Unknown. Was that Wyatt as scared as he was now? Could he still feel that kind of terror? He'd been under the influence of Evil for so much longer; did he have the capacity to get that back like Christopher had given it to him? He hoped that that Wyatt had found that connection again, that it wasn't only out of revenge that he'd sought his brother out. Most of all, he wondered what the other Wyatt would have done at this very moment if it had been his to have. Right now, all he wanted was to send his baby brother so far away that nothing could ever find him, ever. There were too many variables here. Gideon knew him too well already, had too much of a hold on his mind. He swore he could feel the sonofabitch trying to get in, even as they tried so hard to get themselves prepared. Time was running out so fast he had no time to think. And yet, all he could think about was Christopher. Granted, demons had always known from the time he was little that his brother was his Achilles Heel, but none had exploited it quite the way Gideon had. Especially after all he had learned over the last two days, Wyatt didn't know just how much of any of this he could control at all.

Wyatt couldn't remember the last time Christopher had looked so small to him, so vulnerable. His brother had always been his partner in crime until they'd been separated. He didn't even know how to form strategy without his best friend involved. In some ways, he always knew that that would lead to his downfall, just as the other future had proven and Lucy had predicted. Without Christopher there to be at his side, Wyatt didn't know what to do. The idea of losing him one more time was paralyzing.

So what was he supposed to do? He knew what was _supposed_ to happen here. It had all been worked out, everyone was just hanging back anxiously waiting for their call. But every instinct he had was telling him to orb Christopher as far away as possible, to the moon if he had to, just as his little self had been trying to do for over a week.

Just as Wyatt was coming to a decision then, Christopher interrupted him and said gravely, "They're waiting. We need to get this show on the road."

"No," the elder brother argued softly. Quickly, before Christopher's astounded look could lead to a counter attack, Wyatt used his most powerful voice, the one he regrettably knew his brother was afraid of. "Go back to Valhalla. You'll be safe there. You have to go, now."

"This is a two man job, Wyatt. You're stuck with me," said Christopher, blinking harshly at the sound of his brother's voice, even though he knew that that had been Wyatt's intent in the first place. "And don't even try to use the big voice on me. It doesn't work like that anymore."

"I can't do this with you here."

"You can't do it _without_ me here, either. You know what Freya said. You heard what Chris said. This doesn't end without both of us, and quite frankly, I need this to end a lot more than you do."

"Christopher — "

"You still don't get it, do you," asked Christopher. He wasn't angry or trying to be sarcastic, even though he knew he sounded both. He knew how Wyatt thought. He could pretty much feel the worry coming off the guy in waves. He knew his brother meant well and was only trying to protect him, but that was exactly why they were in this mess in the first place. "I know you want to protect me. God knows I want to protect you after all this when I finally got you back in one piece. But that's why all of this started in the first place. First you and then me. _We did this_. All we ever do is protect each other and do it alone instead of together. Granted, yes, the Elders never should have tried to kill you, and I will never forgive Them for it, but we never should have tried to stop Them by ourselves. We have to do this together. It's never going to end until we figure that out the way the sisters have. And I personally have had enough dying for a couple of lifetimes, haven't you?"

That last part stung Wyatt. How many deaths was Christopher on now? Four? Of course he couldn't ask his brother to die for him, not again. So here he was in _Catch-22_ territory without a map to find his way out. That's all he wanted for them, a way out, one that for once didn't involve violence of any kind. Of course, the way it had evolved over a few lifetimes and timelines, there wasn't much of a chance of that. Why was it again that they were the ones that the cosmos so wanted to screw with?

He knew the decision had been made for them a long time ago. Angels had told his other future self so. So as much as he truly hated the idea, he supposed there really was only one thing he could do about it.

Wyatt strode up to the corner of the attic where he knew the Stone had been hidden when he was a kid. It took him a moment to remember that he didn't have powers to move everything aside to get at it. He felt Christopher step forward to help with the effort, but waved him back. He needed to do this himself to have the extra time to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He needed the time to have a memory, one that he knew was his own and wouldn't trade for anything. He shoved aside a stack of boxes that he couldn't quite chuckle at, but was amused to remember how funny he'd thought it that his mother had in fact successfully hidden the monstrosity back there for sixteen years without him ever noticing. She had been exceptionally beautiful that day, the Lady of the Lake handing the Legacy down to its king. She had been so proud of him, telling that she had known even before he was born that he was meant to do great things. She had been so beautiful in her hope for him. If they had only known . . .

He stared at the weapon gleaming up at him, begging him to take it from its stony sheath. It wanted to be free. It could taste blood. It could taste justice. Excalibur wanted to set their family free. And Wyatt wanted to let it.

_Pick it up_, the voice in his head commanded him. The smart ass was gone, though. Only the shadow Gideon was talking now. _You know you want it_, it said. _It can save us all if you just use it the way it was meant to be used_. _You can still have the future we wanted._

Christopher noticed that it was taking his brother too long to release the weapon. Wyatt's eyes were wide and hungry as if he were seeing it for the first time. Without intending to actually hurt his brother, Christopher reached up and pinched Wyatt's forearm to jolt him. "Still with me?"

"He's here," said Wyatt, his voice smaller than he meant it to be.

"And so am I," said Christopher pointedly. "Listen to me. You have to fight him for a little longer. You are so much more vulnerable right now than Little Wyatt is. Your mind is so full of holes that _he_ put there. The more you let him talk, the more time he has to figure out what he's done and how to exploit it. So you need to stop worrying and get this done. This is the only shot we've got."

Knowing that this was the best if only time to say this, Wyatt said without looking at his brother, "I know what Chris told you back on the island."

"_What,_" asked Christopher, his voice painfully small. "What does that have to do with — _how_ do you know what he said?"

"Let's just say that Phoebe isn't as powerless as everyone thinks she is."

"How would Phoebe know?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that Chris's brother was right. I want you to listen to him."

Christopher vehemently shook his head, unwilling to let the conversation get any further than that. "I'm not talking about this."

"I'm not asking you to talk about it. I'm telling you that you need to keep it in the back of your mind. I don't want to talk about it either. I only wanted you to know that I know."

"Fine. I know. Now drop it."

"Consider it dropped." Wyatt continued to stare at the weapon, knowing that once Christopher had it in his hands, there would be no turning back. Without looking away, he tried one last time to send his brother away, futile as it may be, "You know, I can think of much better things for us to do tonight."

"Such as?"

"We could hop on over to the bar and get soused."

"We did that last night," said Christopher. "And the resulting headache hasn't worked out so well for me. Next?"

"I'm tapped. Say something, _anything_, that could make this easier."

Knowing that his brother would know exactly what he was thinking when he said it, Christopher deadpanned, "Wanna find a corner and make out?"

It was an old joke, and they had seen _Sports Night_ far too many times, but it had done the trick. The tension properly broken, Wyatt broke out in a huge grin before he got a handle on it and monotoned back, "No. And I haven't played garbage can basketball since the last time we were grounded together, so don't even ask."

Christopher tried not to drag his brother's mood back down as he prodded the older man in the direction they needed to be going at the moment. They'd put things off long enough. He didn't leave much room for argument as he asked, "You good?"

Grumpily, Wyatt admitted with half a smile, "As good as I'm going to get." With a bound determination now, he growled down at the mammoth stone at his feet, "All right. Let's get this over with already."

Excalibur sang when Wyatt picked it up, something that Christopher couldn't remember it doing for years. Suddenly, his hatred of the sword turned into a deep affection for the damned thing. "It knew," he muttered in his surprise. "Excalibur knew the entire time that it was Gideon and not you who picked it up. It tried to destroy Gideon once he was in control of you, but you were still too strong for it. _It knew_."

"So did Gideon, I think," Wyatt thought out loud. "It must have been . . . _He_ was the one corrupted by the power of the sword, not me. I was too gone, and once he had enough control, he thirsted for it. It was like he completely forgot about me and only wanted the power."

"His goal was different, but he still wanted _you_. He just didn't want you dead anymore. He needed you."

For the first time since his sister set him free, Wyatt was truly angry. He was angry for missing so much of his life, for the things that had been done in his name and the name of his family, and for all of the things that he could not in any way take back. In a way, it felt good to be angry because, for the first time, it was _his_ anger. He owned it and it wasn't evil. He felt a power in himself that he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. No longer helpless to protect those he loved as he had been for the last seven years, Wyatt said dangerously, "He wants me, he can come and get me."

Christopher quickly corrected him, "Us."

Wyatt looked Excalibur up and down with a smile. He let his mind reach out to the sword's twin, the one from the future that their mother had hidden somewhere in the attic away from the twitchy fingers of the under-three crowd. When the second weapon materialized in his hands, he held one of them out to his brother. Standing corrected, he agreed with Christopher, "Us."

The twinkle hit Christopher's eye at the same time as it did Wyatt's, feeling a power from his version of the sword that he'd never felt before. A glance at Wyatt told him that his brother had felt the same thing when he'd acquisitioned the duplicate weapon. It was almost as if the two were meant to be together as well, just as the brothers were. A crooked grin in his brother's direction said it all. "Butch and Sundance ride again?"

"And this time, they're gonna make it to Australia."

"Then let's get to work," grinned Christopher, clanging his sword against the one in his brother's hands.

Everything ready to commence, the brothers stepped forward into a circle of empty space left in the middle of the attic floor. This was it.

Quickly, before Christopher could open his mouth to call their parents and get the ball rolling, Wyatt put a staying hand on his brother's chest. "One last thing: stay close to me, okay?"

"I think I can handle myself, thank you very much," scoffed Christopher.

"I'm not kidding," said Wyatt fiercely. Even though he didn't want it to, his mind concentrated heavily on the image of his brother being skewered by Gideon's blade just before he was taken away from them a few weeks ago. The nightmare stubbornly refused to let go. It gave him the anger he needed to get through this, but it also gave him the fear he needed. He just wished the fear didn't outweigh the anger so much. He couldn't control it, and that was going to lead to problems if his brother couldn't play along the way he needed him to. "You won't let me send you away — which, fine, I get it — but you aren't going to stop me from trying to keep you as safe as possible in all of this. We both need to make it out of this one. Don't argue with me, Christopher. I don't want you out of my sight if at all possible."

Christopher faltered under his brother's gaze. For so long now, he had been the one in charge, the protector. He had forgotten what it was like to have a big brother to look out for _him_. To see Wyatt looking at him with such fear now seemed so unnatural. Everything they had seen aside, Wyatt was never afraid, just like he remembered about his dad. It was one of the things he'd always admired in them that he didn't think he could find in himself; they never showed fear. For Wyatt to be afraid now . . .

When his little brother didn't respond, Wyatt said a little more forcefully, "I mean it. You stay close to me."

Oddly, Christopher remembered saying the exact same thing to Lucy only last week. He definitely understood his brother's fear then and gave Wyatt a reassuring grin. "Yeah, boss."

Wyatt reached back and clobbered Christopher on the back of the head. "Smart ass." He then shook his hands out with a heavy sigh, which he used to call his parents before he could change his mind. "Dad, Mom, let's do this!"

Seconds later, the entire family (sans Grandpa and Baby Chris) arrived in an entire ant colony of bluish orbs. Both Wyatt and Christopher looked for a visual sign of where Gideon was, which of the Wyatts he was near, even though they knew they wouldn't find him. They nodded to each other then took a step forward, leaving it clear that they weren't going to turn back.

Christopher then hung back a safe distance for a moment as Wyatt went over to stand between his parents. Together the three of them approached Little Wyatt in the center of the room while Paige and Phoebe backed away from him. Even as they got closer, Little Wyatt barely reacted to the approaching stranger, obviously feeling a connection to him. Christopher secretly smiled one for the Good Guys. They needed that work. So far, so good.

Together the three of them knelt in front of the toddler, safe, secure smiles on all of their faces. Knowing he'd respond best to her, Piper started, "Wyatt, do you know who this is?"

The toddler pointed a finger at his own tummy and said happily, " ' hat."

"Yeah, it's Wyatt, like you. He's our friend, right?"

" 'ood 'hi."

Piper smiled fondly at her son. "Yep, he's one of the good guys. So we have to help him, don't we? Because we help the good guys like us, don't we?"

" 'ood 'his 'ood, 'ad 'his 'ad."

"That's right," encouraged Leo. "Good guys good, bad guys bad."

Piper held her toddler's face gently with one hand. "And Wyatt is a good guy. He's one of us. Right now, Wyatt needs our help. He has a brother Chris, just like you do. And someone bad is trying to hurt his brother. We can't see where the bad man is, but we know he's there. You need to show Mommy where the bad man is. Can you show Mommy?"

"Showtime," Christopher whispered to himself as he stepped forward to replace the empty space left by Wyatt standing up. He knelt down next to Little Wyatt and said, "Hey, Kiddo."

No sooner had he said hello then Christopher was blown back violently into the air. Behind him, the sofa disappeared into an orb cloud before the cushions re-materialized to soften his landing. Then, just over his head, and athame darted across the room to be embedded into the wall. That was all the answer they needed.

"He's definitely here."

Leo, Christopher, and Wyatt quickly placed themselves strategically throughout the room while the sisters scooped up Little Wyatt. Piper held her son while Phoebe unfolded the paper that their spell was written on. In the center of the men's triangle, the Charmed Ones stood in a triangle of their own and recited the spell.

_Hear us now, spirits far and wide,  
Show us where the evil hides;  
Mask his endeavors from us no more,  
That Good we may rightfully restore._

They heard the voice before they saw anything. The words stung them all. Christopher saw his brother pale at the words and had to fight to keep from pouncing in the direction of the voice too early.

"They're lying to you, Wyatt," Chris's voice said. "You know he isn't me. He's the imposter, not me. He only looks like me. He's one of Them. They can look like anyone They want. You saw Dad do it. He can, too. He isn't me. You know who I am."

" ' ot 'ris," said the toddler the way he would if he were about to throw a temper tantrum. "NNNNNOT!"

Flickering like a television set on the fritz, the specter flashed in and out until it was finally corporeal. When solid, yet another "Chris" stood before them in the blood-stained sweatshirt jacket that the boy had worn the day he died. Little Wyatt's face screwed up, ready to let out a terrible scream. Instead, he stomped his feet and said as forcefully as his little two year old voice would allow, "'OT 'RIS!"

As he said it, the ChrisGideonThing was blown across the room without a cushioned shelter to land in. The brilliant white light that accompanied a terrifying power that Wyatt wouldn't discover again until he was nearly fourteen stormed through the room, chasing the ghost into the farther corner. Instead of the explosion that they all expected to hear shortly thereafter, a slow laughter cackled up from the corner and chased back the light until it bounced right back toward the toddler.

Christopher's mind flashed, and in an instant he knew what was going to happen if his brother didn't get out of there. Urgently, he shouted, "GET WYATT OUT!"

Without a further thought, Paige grabbed Phoebe's hand and orbed them out. Piper immediately dove to cover her child, thinking of nothing but protecting him from himself. She scooped him up and grabbed for Leo's hand. Together they whisked the boy out of the room in a cloud of orbs so fast that they might as well have blinked out. Stunned, Wyatt stared into the blank space left by himself and his parents. He remembered that power, but it had been so long since it had been in his possession. It had been a gift of good, something he was unable to use once he had been taken over by Gideon. Wow. He would give just about anything to have that power at the moment.

The light continued to pour out of the room at them until finally it hit Wyatt square in the chest as he threw himself bodily into his brother to shove him to the ground. Painfully, he groaned, "Ow."

Close enough that he could reach up and grab a vial from the potions table, Christopher's fingers danced on the edge util they could tip three or four off into his hand. In quick succession, he lobbed three of the bottles at the GideonThing as it tried to get up out of the corner to keep it down a little longer.

Christopher was the first to recover, scampering to his feet and holding a hand down to help his brother up. Knowing that Wyatt was the only person who would understand what had happened, he asked, "Why didn't that work?"

"Hell if I know," grumbled Wyatt, putting his free hand to his now-bleeding temple. "Ask him."

"Which 'him'?"

"What?" Wyatt's eyes owled in their sockets. "Both of them? Nobody said anything about having to fight the both of them separately."

From where the spirit had fallen in the corner, both a Gideon and a "Chris" rose and grinned evilly at the two brothers, obviously knowing something that the two of them didn't know. It was "Chris" who spoke up, sending chills down Wyatt's spine. "Did you really think that you were capable of stopping me? I have Good on my side, young man, something that you never have. Destiny wanted me for this. Destiny knew that I was the only one who would see the truth, that you are an abomination. You never should have been born. If the others had done as I'd warned them, none of this would have had to happen."

"You aren't Destiny," argued Christopher bitterly. "If Wyatt wasn't meant to be, Destiny would have taken care of that herself. You're an Elder. You're supposed to be on our side. You don't have the power to decide who gets to live and who dies."

"I have powers beyond your imagining, boy," said the Gideon that actually looked like Gideon. The grimace spread over his face as he raised his hands, obviously taking pleasure in what he felt was to come. With a grand sweep of his hands, the Gideon who looked like Chris was pulled aside, dissipating into a clouded form until it merged with Gideon's body. With a booming voice, the former Elder said, "Allow us to demonstrate."

Christopher gulped to his brother, "You wanted them back in one body, looks like you got it." As Gideon raised his hands on the other side of the room, he added, "Oh, not good."

A stream of black orbs shot from the extended hands of the former Elder, spewing out at the two men from the future like bullets. The brothers separated, each rolling off to the opposite side. Wyatt was the first one up, so Gideon struck at Christopher, taking his time with the one who was more vulnerable. Gideon waved a hand over his sharp features, morphing them into Chris's own visage once again. The former Elder moved slowly across the room, waving his hand again to reveal a spreading stain of blood across his abdomen. With the other hand, he conjured an athame that he twisted cruelly into the air with a sadistic grin.

"Remember this? I do." The demonthingwhatever gave the air a stab with the weapon as his eyes focused solely on Christopher, who was getting up far too slowly as he tried to fight his way through the field of stars in his vision. "You cost me everything. I was going to be hailed when I returned to the heavens. I should have been rewarded for ridding the world of the threat, but you robbed me with your insolence. You should have listened. I took no pleasure in your death before. Now, I will take nothing but the greatest of pleasures to see you through to your very last breath."

The athame took a severe downward thrust toward the still-dazed Christopher, catching the fabric of the man's sweatshirt as he tried to at least roll out of the way. A second swing of the blade caught skin before the blade was embedded in the hardwood floor. Christopher was able to get a hand free long enough to smack the blade spinning away under one of the sofas and out of harm's way for the moment. Furious, the thing with Chris's face waved an arm and sent Christopher flying violently into the wall under the chalk triquetra. The witch slid to the floor, eyes unfocused and arms too limp to stop him from letting his head hit the floor.

"NO!" Wyatt screamed, instinctively flinging his arm to throw Gideon aside, until he remembered that he was pretty much powerless. Instead he charged the former Elder, calling Excalibur to him and letting it lead the way until he ran into GideonChris. Before he could actually make any kind of attack, though, Gideon dissipated into the black cloud and floated away into nothingness to await his next chance at the brothers.

Seeing a temporary break, Wyatt dashed to Christopher's side. Skidding to a halt, he had to balance a hand on the wall to stop himself from crashing into it and falling on top of his brother. As the younger man tiredly heaved a rain of books off himself, Wyatt saw the blood coming from his brother's mouth and fought the panic that rose in his throat. Damn it. This was exactly why he . . .There was no way he was going to lose Christopher now, not after everything they had been through. He shook his brother by the shoulders until Christopher wearily blinked at him. With as much confidence as he could muster, Wyatt ordered the younger man, "Don't you give up on me yet. I can't do this without you."

"Slacker."

"Just get off your ass and help me."

Christopher bit back his pain and reached up to grab Wyatt's wrist. With a hard pull, he managed to get himself back to his feet, even if he was a bit on the wobbly side. The slice from the athame was a little more painful than he wanted to admit to, but he wasn't going to tell his brother that. He'd find a way to deal with that later. Trying to find the best way to tell his brother he was okay, he quipped, "I know everyone says I beat myself up too much, but this is ridiculous."

As soon as Christopher was up, Wyatt focused on trying to find Gideon again. He divided his focus after no initial sign and asked sideways, "How bad is it?"

"It's a scratch. Where is he?"

Wyatt didn't have time to answer his brother as an already all-too-familiar spear of black orbs darted through the air at his head. Seeing it barely in time, Christopher caught Wyatt about the knees and tackled the older man to the ground. He quickly crooked his head in the direction of one of their much-abused sofas and skittered himself behind it. He knew it was pretty much useless considering that they were all stuck there to begin with, but that still didn't mean it wasn't going to buy them at least a few seconds. Right now, he'd take what he could get.

Following suit, Wyatt ducked behind the sofa, barely peeking his head over the top to get another glance. He fell down on his tailbone, hard, and turned his head toward his brother with a frustrated wince. "Okay, who told him he could bring more than one power to the party?"

"Don't look at me. I told him to bring the chips." With exasperated bitterness, Christopher grumped, "How did he get to have powers and we don't?"

Ruefully, Wyatt suggested, "I guess we know now what happens when Elders fall to the Dark Side?"

"Elder Darklighter? Perfect. Like this wasn't hard enough already. So now what?"

Another slew of black orbs slammed into the sofa on the other side then tore through between the witches' heads. They both quickly ducked in opposite directions to get away from the shrapnel that was what remained of the springs of the couch. Wyatt rolled onto all fours, trying to keep himself low. In as low a stage whisper he could manage and still be heard, he commanded Christopher. "Cover me. And come up with a plan fast."

Before Christopher could argue, Wyatt sprinted from his all-four-ed position and ran at Gideon, ducking the entire way to keep from being hit with anything. He could hear his brother swearing at him along the way, "Cover you with what exactly?" Wyatt didn't have time to answer, though, as he full on tackled the former Elder about the waist, turned into a set of orbs, and dragged them both down through the attic's hard wood floor.

Christopher blinked at the spot on the floor where his brother and their enemy had fallen through the floor. "What do you want me to do? Drop the piano on his head?"

Knowing that they really didn't have time for sarcasm, even if it made him feel better, Christopher paced back and forth, muttering to himself and creating a mental checklist of all of their assets. Of course they had the twin Excaliburs — _Excalibi? Excaliburses?_ — but really, what else did they have? They had searched The Book high and low looking for a way to get their powers to them. They'd even considered using the spell that the sisters had used on The Source that could call on the powers of all of the Warren line ahead of them. Nothing had seemed to scream '_YES_' at them. All he had was Wyatt, and he was down his powers just as much as he was. And Freya had made it very clear that the only way this was ever going to end was if he and Wyatt put an end to the thing that had come after them together.

Two brothers. Two swords. Two brothers, two swords. Two two two two . . .

Two Wyatts. Two Chrises.

_Oh, holy hell!_

"MOM! DAD!"

Immediately the couple orbed in, sans the toddler that Christopher had crazily hoped to see with them. Urgently, he started talking even before they had solidified into complete human beings again. "Dad, take Mom downstairs. Wyatt's down there alone with Gideon and needs all the help he can get to keep it distracted for me. Then get back to Valhalla and get Little Wyatt. I need him."

"Christopher — " Piper started, only to be cut off.

"GO! DISTRACT!" As soon as they were gone, Christopher darted back to the potions table and scooped up every single vial he could. He closed his eyes and concentrated on finding out where exactly his brother was. As soon as he found him, he called out so that Wyatt would hear him in the back of the Whitelighter part of his mind, "Grab Mom and fall back."

It took a moment, probably from the same lack of use that had caused such an earlier confusion with Wyatt the day before, but eventually the elder brother called back, '_What?_'

"Get out of my way."

'_What are you doing?_'

Wryly, Christopher both laughed and groaned at his own joke and said, "I'm gonna drop the piano on his head." No more questions came after that, but he felt Wyatt pull away and take their mother with him. As soon as he knew there was enough room, Christopher orbed all of the potions in his arms through the floor and down the two floors into the living room to briefly hover then collide into one another right above the GideonChrisThing's head. He didn't know if he did any damage to it, but Christopher could definitely feel the rumblings all the way upstairs. He waited for a moment for any kind of status report from his brother and started to get a little nervous when Wyatt didn't give him any hint of what had happened. With the communal power they got from their father, he gave his brother a particularly impatient and hard nudge on his mind and asked, "Well?"

No answer came, but Leo, Paige, and Little Wyatt did. On Christopher's surprised look, his aunt shrugged at him. "You need another active power in the mix. Where are they?"

"Living room."

Without another word, Paige orbed out of the attic again, presumably toward the living room to help out Piper and Wyatt. Seconds later, her arrival was apparently enough of a distraction to Wyatt because there was a vicious BANG from somewhere downstairs. Christopher heard Wyatt call up to him, '_Is that what you call giving cover?_'

Christopher couldn't help but smile at himself and his brother. An inside joke between them and their father, he knew what that meant. Despite the sarcasm, Wyatt was still very much in charge of the situation. Knowing the right response to let Wyatt know that he was in control as well, Christopher said out loud to his distant brother, "Is that what you call running? If I knew you were going to stroll . . . "

Leo recognized the line immediately and put the pieces together. Quickly he asked for confirmation, "Wyatt's all right?"

"For now," said Christopher. "I don't know how long he can keep it up, though. I hope Mom and Paige can keep Gideon busy long enough for us to get something done here."

"What do you need?"

"I need Wyatt." On his father's confused look, Christopher looked down at the toddler clutching his father's hand. "This Wyatt."

"There has to be another way," argued Leo before he even knew what Christopher's idea was going to be. Granted, all of his kids, whatever versions of them, had been through more than enough because of Gideon and all of the tragedy that had befallen the family in the last few years, but this was different. Wyatt was barely two years old. He shouldn't be expected to perform, not yet. It was too much. That Wyatt had had to handle himself in the Underworld for as long as he had the day Christopher had been born should be the end of the line for the boy for a very long time. To ask more was too much.

Knowing all of the arguments before his father could say them, Christopher said, "He's part of this, Dad, whether we like it or not. I don't exactly like the idea of having to rely on a kid who hasn't even been toilet trained yet, but I think I have to. He has powers that the rest of us don't. We need him."

"He doesn't have a command of those powers. That was a nervous reaction what happened before. That's all."

"Maybe, but he can try. Right now, I need to have this option open. This is as much his fight as it is ours. Gideon took him in so many ways. I know he's just a kid, but he deserves to have the chance if we need him to." Without waiting for any more arguments, Christopher stepped as close as he dared to his brother, knelt down on one knee, and smiled. "Wyatt, I need your help."

" 'hat 'el'," the little boy said bravely.

"Yeah, Wyatt. Help. Big help." Christopher gave his father a pleading look and took it as an affirmative answer when the angel at least didn't look away. Back to his brother, Christopher said, "Listen very carefully. The bad man who took you away, the bad man who hurt me, he's coming back."

" 'ee 'im," said Wyatt with a pout.

It hurt both of the men to hear the boy say so, but they knew he'd seen. Wyatt had seen him so much longer than the rest of them. He must be so scared by now. Christopher tried to hide his disgust at the idea that someone who was supposed to be an angel, a force for good, had tormented such a small, innocent soul. Forget for the moment that Wyatt was his brother; he was a baby. He looked into those eyes he had known all his life, the eyes that had brought him both infinite calm and colossal fear, and saw too much pain in them for two eyes so young. Bitterly, Christopher said, "I know you have, and I want to make him go away for you, for all of us. So I need you to help me. Can you help me?"

"Christopher," Leo started one last time.

Carefully, the elder boy explained, "Wyatt, you have to promise me and Daddy that you are going to stay behind your shield while you're up here, okay? Can you help me from inside your shield?" The boy nodded and Christopher looked to his father for approval. When he got a nod that wasn't quite as reluctant, Christopher smiled at his brother. "Okay, Wyatt. Do you remember the big sword that Mommy put away for you?"

Like it was a game, Wyatt pointed a finger at the twin of Excalibur that Christopher had grasped tightly in his hand. " No-no 'ouchee."

Christopher said, "This time, it's okay to touch. No-no touching any other time until Mommy and Daddy say so, but today I need you to use it. When I tell you to, can you put the sword where I tell you to?"

Still pretending, Wyatt swept his finger around in the graceful arc that he used so often when performing orb symphonies for his baby brother. Excalibur orbed out of Christopher's hand and swung around high up in the air only to come back down and embed the tip in the floor right at the bigger younger brother's side once more.

Both frightened and proud, Leo knelt down and said into his son's ear, "Very good, Wyatt. Very good."

The toddler clapped his hands in pleasure at the compliment. Up to Christopher, he begged, " 'gain!"

"Not yet," said Christopher, both creeped out and proud. "Soon. Until then, you need to put your shield up, okay? Shield, Wyatt. Daddy, too."

Obediently, the boy put his blue electric bubble up around himself and his father. Leo looked at his youngest and asked, "Okay, now what?"

Christopher backed away from his father and brother, unintentionally clutching his side. The slim cut was starting to really irritate him. "Now I get us set up with crystals. You, Mom, and Paige are here. From now on, nothing gets in or out."

"You're hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle. Just stay with Wyatt."

"Christopher — "

Letting himself have this one last bit of contact with his father before it all went further into hell, Christopher looked pleadingly at the man who had been so absent in his life. "You have to stay there. It's bad enough I had to bring any of you here. My Wyatt and I are expendable here. Chris got that. He made sure I get that, too. What absolutely cannot happen is anything going wrong that could hurt you, Mom, Paige, or Little Wyatt. You cannot leave that shield. I can't let you leave now, not if I want to risk Gideon getting out of here with you. But I can't have you here, either. You _have_ to stay behind that shield and you _have_ to let us take care of this. It's never going to end if you don't."

Leo's face fell in sadness, but he didn't have time to say anything about it because his son quickly shooshed him with a downward wave of his hand.

"Something's wrong."

Not half a second later, Piper and Paige ran out of a set of orbs, looking like the devil himself was after them. While Paige ran directly for Christopher, Piper ran for her eldest, who let down his shield long enough for her to get through and scoop him up in her arms. She took him quickly and hid them both behind her husband. She had never hidden behind the angel before, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed time to think. She needed time to process. She needed time to figure out how she was going to tell Christopher that they had lost his brother once again.

Luckily (or not) for her, Paige blurted it out without a second thought, knowing that they just didn't have time for any. "We've got trouble. Gideon has Wyatt."

Alarmed, Christopher asked, "What do you mean, _'has Wyatt'_?"

"He was knocked unconscious. Piper tried to blow Gideon up, but he poofed into that cloud thing and plowed into Wyatt before we could stop him. He's still unconscious, but he won't be for long."

A blue streak of violent words left Christopher's mouth before he remembered that Little Wyatt was right there with them. And his parents. No matter how old he was, he had always made an effort not to swear in front of his elders. Dead or alive, his parents and aunt were still his elders. Still, if ever there was an occasion to lose control over his vocabulary, this was probably it.

Snapping without meaning to, Piper said, "Can we save the rant for later, please? We don't have time for it right now."

Quickly, Paige asked, "Can you think of any way to separate him from Wyatt's body?"

"Without hurting Wyatt," asked Christopher. "Not in the slightest."

"Good attitude," Piper bit at her son, frustrated to no end. "That'll help."

Not exactly liking his mother's own brand of sarcasm, Christopher opted for the most logical and reliable solution he'd leaned on his entire life. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly in and out, letting the now-hated part of him that was Elder come out to the surface. He let it reach out to his brother, searching for some sign of Wyatt's whereabouts. Even when the two Gideons had had control of his brother, it had taken a while before Wyatt had felt truly gone to him. Wyatt had been able to fight it for at least a while. He may be much more vulnerable to the specter's abilities, but that didn't mean that Wyatt was down and out. Christopher knew better than that. And if he knew that, Wyatt and Gideon knew that, too. Carefully, he let his Elder half touch where he knew Wyatt to be, searching for just how bad the situation was.

Outside his meditation, Piper was looking at her immobile son in frustration. "What's he doing?"

"Trying to find Wyatt," Leo explained then closed his eyes himself. It was much harder for him to access that part of himself at the moment, given his hatred of the circumstances, but he quickly calmed himself so that he could help his sons. They had to come first, not his anger. He couldn't find Wyatt, but as soon as he realized that, he knew that the boy he needed to find was Christopher anyway. He let his essence flow into Christopher's to help boost the younger man's search. He felt Christopher flinch away, so he said out loud but in that eerily calm Elder voice, "Let me help, Christopher."

Christopher's eyes flew open, wide with terror. "Too late." Urgently, he ordered his parents and aunt, "Get out of sight. Stay out of this if you can."

Irritated that her sons were in danger, again, and that her youngest was giving her orders, again, Piper brusquely reminded him, "In case you forgot, your mother and aunts happen to be witches. Your father is an Elder. I think we're capable of helping you. This is our fight, too, you know. Gideon didn't do this to only the two of you."

"You're also a power down, just two weeks out of major surgery and childbirth, and completely useless to us if you happen to get yourselves killed. I win. 'Bye."

"No, you don't. You're a few powers down yourselves, Mister, so don't you use that tone on me. I'm still your mother and it's my right to try to help. I've been doing this for quite a while, you — "

"— And I've been doing this three times longer than you, so if you don't mind, do me a favor and hide. Don't make me orb you out of here, because I will."

"Christopher Perry — " Piper started but didn't finish as she was suddenly enveloped in a cloud of orbs that pulled her away from her son to land in the corner, protectively ensconced behind two bookcases and the free standing mirror. Frustrated, she opened her mouth to finish her say, but Christopher didn't give her the chance.

"Thanks, Wyatt," he chirped. To his little older brother, he commanded, "Keep her there, would you?" To his mother, he said forcefully, "Stay there." As an afterthought, he added, "Please." He quickly turned his head and found his aunt, who merely shrugged her shoulders at him.

"I'm out until you say different. Call for me when you need me," Paige volunteered, not wanting to distract her nephew any more than he already was. They had enough problems at the moment. She held a hand out for the last crystal still in Christopher's hand. She stepped into the doorway then set it down, closing the cage. Without another word, she orbed herself out of the hall for destinations in the house unknown to the others.

Out of time, an explosion of cushioning from the sofa right next to Christopher announced Wyatt's arrival. Wyatt's body and the demonghostthing driving his body stood menacingly in the doorway. Christopher had to say this for the sonofabitch: he knew how to use Wyatt's intimidating form to his advantage. He had a feeling that the rest of the family was about to see what it was that could be so scary about their little angel and knew that he was in no way going to be able to spare them that pain. His real nightmare was, for the first time since Wyatt had come to them from the future, right there in front of him.

Gideon even knew how to use The Voice as he chimed, "One down. One to go."

Christopher didn't say anything, only glared at the man and sidestepped toward the middle of the attic floor, taking his time. Even though he didn't think he could reach inside his brother to sense him without being caught, he had to try one last time to find Wyatt before he wouldn't have the chance any longer. He never took his eyes off the thing in his brother's body as he searched, willing Wyatt to give him some kind of sign that he was still close enough to the surface to be of any kind of help. When all he got was blackness, Christopher quickly righted himself in his mind, forcing himself to look at the man in front of him.

That was not his brother.

The attempt to find Wyatt apparently hadn't been surreptitious enough because a twisted grin appeared on Wyatt's face. Gideon opened Wyatt's hand and produced a small dusting of black orbs that materialized into the athame that Christopher had taken from him moments before. He brandished the weapon, turning it side to side, letting it catch the light. The blade gleamed as the thing with Wyatt's face snarled, "How many times must I kill you before you learn that you cannot save him?"

"A few more times," Christopher bit back. "I guess I'm a slow learner."

"Then allow me to teach you," said Gideon with Wyatt's deepest, most menacing voice.

Despite the chills that tingled Christopher's spine, he beckoned Gideon into the room with a crook of his head. He backed up a few steps so that he could be in a good catching position when Gideon was close enough. He was one down, yes, but he wasn't out yet. He still had a trick or two up his own sleeve. Careful not to look in the direction of the weapons so that he wouldn't tip the guy off, Christopher allowed his adversary room to join him.

Again, the younger brother reminded himself, _That is not your brother._

At the invitation, Gideon took charge, storming into the room instead of taking the casual stroll the boy must have expected. The heavy steel toed stomps across the attic floor thundered as he charged the boy, almost a mirror of the way the boy had charged him so many weeks ago.

Unable to simply stand there and watch her currently powerless son face off with his essentially identical twin's murderer, Piper stepped out from behind her forced shelter and flicked her wrists. Emotionally charged as she'd been over the last few weeks, her powers were certainly off. As a small puff of smoke bloomed in the doorway that Wyatt's body no longer occupied, she trained her eyes on the man charging her son. Again she snicked her wrists at the man, making magical contact, but not enough to slow him down in the slightest.

Seeing what was happening, Leo quickly orbed from his side of the room to the other, bringing his toddler son with him. As soon as he was at his wife's side, he grabbed both of her wrists and held them tight in his trembling hands. He sounded both angry and horrified as he reminded her, "Piper, stop! That's still Wyatt in there."

Piper's eyes widened in realized horror. Immediately they searched out her son, but she had to turn away as her husband tugged hard on her arms to pull her attention away. "Leo — "

"You can't interfere. They have to do this!"

Leo's shout had been just enough to distract Gideon away from taking Christopher on immediately. The boy was powerless, especially now without his brother, but Piper and Leo still had the ability to destroy him before he got the chance to end the future where it stood. The boy could wait the few seconds needed to incapacitate his parents. Besides, after what he'd done, Leo had earned it. Gideon knew how afraid of their son they were, how afraid the entire magical community was of the elder boy. His sneering visage would be more than enough to remind them of the good that he was going to do them all.

Seeing his one opportunity in Gideon's distraction, Christopher whispered, "Excalibur."

With Wyatt's most menacing voice, Gideon said, "I warned you, Leo. Look at what the future has become. You let this happen. I told you that you had no idea what you'd done. Now you leave me no choice. I — "

Two steps behind Gideon now, Christopher growled, "You are not my brother."

_Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod, ohgod!_

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Christopher raised the sword over his head and swung it around in a beautiful arc. He turned around, bringing the weapon first behind him then around so fast he couldn't have stopped it even if he tried. With what little control he had over the weapon, he guided it into the softest part of his brother's stomach, driving it in to the hilt. As it had when it had first been brought together with its sister weapon, Excalibur sang at the contact with living flesh. Christopher choked on the gasp that should have left his mouth as he felt his brother's body wrench to try to get away from the steel.

Wyatt's blazing blue eyes met his brother's with complete shock. Obviously Gideon never expected that Christopher would be able to strike his own flesh and blood such a devastating blow. The driver in the body stuttered, "H-ho-how?"

Unable to answer even Gideon because the answer itself was just too awful to put into words, Christopher said desolately, "Wyatt, now."

A confused look came over the adult Wyatt's face. Christopher could only imagine what the former Elder was going to say, but the words died on his lips as the second sword hurtled through the air under the surprisingly expert control of the toddler in the corner. Christopher saw Piper reach a hand out to stop her eldest, unaware of exactly what was going on. He also saw terror flood her features as she realized what it was that her boy was doing. All of it happened in a flash as the tip of the second Excalibur punctured through the adult Wyatt's chest, ripping through the man's lungs and flesh until that hilt was buried in his back as if they were meant to be attached.

Pure hatred fired up in Christopher's eyes as the thing in his brother's body reached a hand up to put on his shoulder to steady what was soon to be a fall. Too mad to know what to say, he remembered how Gideon had turned his brother into a monster even in his dreams, saw that little boy flash into a man just as he'd driven a sword into Christopher's body so vividly just two nights before. All of that hatred fused into the one thing that Christopher knew could sum it all up for him at the moment. Viciously he spat, "Made you look."

From that point, Wyatt's eyes screwed together to the center like he was going cross-eyed. He swayed on his feet drunkenly, his hands floating out to grasp at anything that could hold him steady. Christopher's face flinched with worry and fear, but quickly returned to the mask of hatred he knew he needed to keep on until this was over. If Wyatt had seen it, he would know immediately that Christopher did indeed have a plan and knew what he was doing. If Gideon had been the one to see, then it would a whole new ballgame. Christopher hoped to whatever gods were listening that Wyatt knew in his heart that he never would hurt him if he didn't have to.

He had to reign himself in from actually trying to comfort his brother and instead silently told himself, _Hang on, big brother. I'm coming for you_.

To the rest of the world, all they saw was Christopher step back from his brother's violently punctured body. The voice they heard come from his mouth was huge, much larger than should have been possible. There was such power behind it, it didn't seem natural at all.

"LET. HIM. GO." Christopher's entire body seemed to radiate heat at the thing with the strangling hold on his brother's soul. He didn't blink, didn't flinch. This was going to be his one chance.

Sickly, the thing driving Wyatt's body merely looked up at the younger of the brothers and grimaced a bloody grin at him. It laughed at him, knowing fully well what face he was using to tell the insolent little boy off with. "Until the two of you are gone, this world will never be safe. I've seen it. The others have seen it. You're both abominations. This filthy body is an abomination."

"Let him go, NOW!"

"I will end you both."

Without thought or warning, Christopher grasped the hilt of his version of Excalibur and tore it back out to the shock and disgust of everyone. He set his jaw and didn't look up, afraid of what it would do to him if he did, and said blackly to the thing in his brother's body, "Say that again."

This time, the thing that had been Gideon didn't say anything at all. There was a small flash in the man's eyes as they turned up to find his brother's. This time, it was very much Wyatt's voice that quivered at Christopher. There was what Christopher told himself was an involuntary tear that fell down his brother's face as Wyatt's voice said, "Do it, Chris. It's okay."

In that moment, Christopher faltered, just as he had secretly known he would. Chris had told him that his Wyatt had warned him that this could happen, that he would have to kill his own brother to save them. Chris hadn't believed it either, but he'd passed the request on. Christopher had thought Chris must have lost his mind after dying like he did, but Chris had promised him that he was more than lucid. He'd even asked the younger, dead version of himself if he could do it if it was him that was the one who was about to go into this battle. Chris had admitted that he didn't think he could, but then, he'd said, he'd done a lot of things he didn't know he was capable of to save Wyatt. Christopher wished to all the gods, named and unnamed, that it could be Chris standing here instead of him, but as Chris had also pointed out, this Wyatt was _his _brother, _his_ responsibility, _his_ other half. If it was to come to this, he was going to have to be the one to do it.

Christopher's face squinched up painfully as if he were going to cry, but he held it in by a thread. _Forgive me_, he mouthed at his brother, then said clearly to the toddler version of his brother, "Wyatt!"

Much more forgiving, even though Christopher doubted that was the reason why he did it, Little Wyatt orbed the second Excalibur from his future self's body, pointing his little finger, and replaced the terrible weapon back in The Stone where it belonged.

While Leo, Piper, and Little Wyatt's eyes unintentionally followed the brightness of the orbs away from the battered body in front of Christopher, the younger of the two men glued his attention to his brother. He wanted to be there when Wyatt's body pitched forward. The least he could do was catch his brother before he hit the floor. He'd been through enough. As Wyatt slumped forward, Christopher silently prayed, _Please let me be right_.

For one frightening second, Wyatt's body hovered before it collapsed heavily into his brother's waiting arms. Then, just as Christopher thought it would, the black cloud that Gideon had become fell backwards out of Wyatt's body, unable to control it any longer. As the mass chameleoned from light to dark then darker still, Christopher knew the last throes it was going to go through were only building. He lowered his brother to the ground as quickly but gently as he could, cradling the older man's head until there was nothing between his hand and the ground. As he slid his hand out, he called out urgently for his father.

"DAD! Heal him! PAIGE!"

He then ran away from Wyatt, needing to draw the cloud away from his brother's already battered form. He scraped the sword up from the ground on the way, doing his best not to notice the stains all along the blade. The GideonThing pinged around the room, bouncing into the floors, the walls, anything to try to escape to live to fight the family another day. As its energy began to sputter out, the thing that used to be Gideon seemed to know that if it was going to rid the world of the menace that was The Brothers Halliwell, it was going to have to use all of the momentum it could get. It began to dart around the room, harder and harder until it found its target. It did exactly what Christopher wanted it to do.

_Come on, you sonofabitch, come on. That's it. Come on, right here. Let's go._

At least, it almost did what he wanted it to.

Christopher held Excalibur out in front of himself, both hands gripping it for dear life. As soon as he saw the thing coming at him in all its furious glory, he pointed it right at the cloud. It seemed to speed forward, kamikaze like, ready to take him on one last time. The thing that had once been an Elder, his father's dearest mentor, sliced itself through the sword, regardless of the power behind the weapon. The sword glowed with blue victory over its enemy, singing in harmony with the inhuman screaming agony of the cloud.

What Christopher didn't expect was the sheer determination the damned thing would have to get at him. Sparks flew from the hilt of the sword as the GideonThing slammed into it, digging and clawing its way beyond the barrier of the hilt. Before the younger of the brothers could do anything about it, Gideon was able to burst through the invisible power that Christopher had expected to be behind the sword. The cloud collided with his chest, bringing such pain. He had imagined what it was his sister had been through when it had happened to her, but imagination couldn't compare with how he felt now.

And yet, the pain wasn't what he would have expected either. He forced himself to look down so that he could see what was happening to him. What he saw surprised him. The GideonThing wasn't actually penetrating his chest like he thought. Particle after particle of evil slammed into him, cutting him like dull razor blades, but the evil didn't have the ability to get any further. As slow and painful as it felt to Christopher, the GideonThing charged into him only to turn to a pile of ash at his feet in a matter of seconds. Yeah, he didn't hate Excalibur quite so much anymore. Heavily, he gave the sword a pat, congratulations for an impossible job well done.

All energy spent, the younger of the two brothers stumbled backward, reeling from the feeling. The evil may not have been able to tear through him the way it had his sister, but it had been enough of a blow. Not that he had time to care yet. He had to be sure. It had to be gone. Gideon could never come after them, never again.

Weakly he called out to the present version of his brother, "Wyatt? Come here. I need your help."

Without hesitation, the toddler orbed over to the man he now knew was Chris. He still seemed to see a distinction that none of the others did, but he also seemed to know, this one was okay now, too. He appeared in front of Christopher, his thumb stuck in his mouth, but eyes shining. He was not afraid, not anymore.

Christopher took his little older brother's hand in his and said, "I need you to help me. You're a big boy, Wyatt. I know you can." He pointed at the pile of ash. The action of raising his arm to point caught his breath with pain, but he wasn't going to waste time thinking about it yet. He grit his teeth and explained, "You see that big pile of dirt? It's yucky. Mom doesn't want it in the house. We can't see it, not ever again. It's bad, bad mojo, kiddo. Do you understand? It's part of the bad man, Wyatt. You have to destroy it. Can you do that for me?"

The toddler proudly puffed his chest out, giggles reaching his eyes as he looked first at Christopher then at the big pile of nasty on his mommy's carpet. Little Wyatt pointed a stubby little finger at what remained of Gideon, raising it in the air in a cloud of orbs. The orbs shined with incredible gold brilliance as the boy's giggles grew. Then, as if he had to do something since he couldn't actually say '_Abracadabra_', the boy smashed his hands together once in a loud CRACKing clap. The cloud of orbs and dust exploded in a shower of sparks that flung about the room, raining down on them all with a sense of finality.

Little Wyatt turned back around and looked up at Christopher, smile of satisfaction plastered all over his face. He knew exactly what was going on. Part of Christopher was even a little scared when the boy said to him in his little voice, " 'ood 'his 'ood. 'ood 'his win. 'ris and 'hat win."

Christopher didn't know exactly what to say to that, but he reached out a bloodied hand to ruffle the kid's hair. He brought the baby boy close to him, forgetting for a moment to be careful around him. So when Wyatt didn't even flinch, Christopher didn't notice. He hugged the boy close and kissed his hair. With an exhausted breath, he said, "You're safe now, big brother."

Pulling away from the hug, Little Wyatt reached his finger out to his younger older brother's nose, just as he had with the other Chris, and made a small gurgling noise. " 'e 'ood."

Christopher would have laughed if his father hadn't interrupted them, terrified. "Christopher, get over here. Bring Wyatt."

Quickly the man scrambled to his feet, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the pain at bay. He reached down to pick up his little brother but was unable to. He settled for taking the toddler's hand and pulling him along toward where he'd left his father and big brother. Together they stumbled along as fast as they could until Little Wyatt grew impatient with his little brother and orbed them both to their father's side.

When the chime of orbs let Leo know that his eldest was next to him, he said in the voice he used to talk to his smaller children, "Wyatt, Daddy needs your help."

Immediately, Christopher asked, "What's wrong?" He stepped around from behind his father's hunched form to find his brother lying in a pool of blood exactly where he'd left him. More forcefully, he asked again, "What's wrong?"

"He isn't healing," said Piper tightly.

"I can see that," growled Christopher, consumed in panic rather than manners or respecting his parents. "Why? Excalibur can't keep him from healing. It's supposed to be a force for good. We used it for good. It shouldn't be a problem."

Before the man could get too upset to get in the way, Piper pulled her future second-born a few steps back from his brother to give his father room to keep trying. Telling him the conclusion they had both reached while he'd been fighting what had remained of Gideon, she said, "We think it's because Gideon was still inside him. With that kind of evil — "

Angrily Christopher argued, "Chris told me that Wyatt told him he would be okay. His Wyatt told him that if he had to kill him, he would be okay."

"I don't think that's how he meant it, sweetie," said Piper gently. She reached down and took his hand and squeezed.

Now furious, the younger witch snapped at his parents, "Get him down here. Summon that sonofabitch down here right now. He — He _told me_!"

"Christopher — " Piper started, only to be cut off by an angry sob.

"No! Wyatt told him it would be okay. Chris _told_ me it would be okay. He can't — It can't be like this. It's supposed to be okay."

Piper didn't know what else to say, so she just got over all of the insecurities that they had had over the last eight days and pulled her son to her tight. She held him hard, furiously running her hand through his hair, shooshing him the best she could. She knew he could see over her shoulder what was going on at their feet, but she had to try to distract him anyway. She tried to comfort him, even though she was barely able to comfort herself. Wyatt may have only been there for a day, but he was still hers. She was supposed to outlive her children. That was the rule. You outlive your kids. You don't watch them die over and over in a span of a few weeks. It just didn't work like that.

Into his mother's shoulder, Christopher said, "I never would have done it if I had known. If there was even a chance that — "

"Christopher?"

The weak, almost child-like sound of Wyatt's voice calling for his brother immediately erased the tears from the younger brother's eyes. He sniffed once, wiping the tears from his face on either side with the sleeves of his shirt. He steeled his features then worked his way down until he was the picture of calm and resilience. He owed his brother that much.

He dropped to his knees, although it was more of a fall than a drop considering the growing pain in his chest. He was starting to feel a little more pain than he thought he should, almost like the way Darklighter arrows probably hurt more than they should because of the poison. The oddness of the realization struck him as his knees hit the floor that he should probably be paying more attention to that idea, but he didn't think he had time to. His brother needed him. He could figure out what was wrong with him when they fixed Wyatt.

Christopher pulled himself along the floor, too tired to crawl, to his brother's side. He gave a quick questioning look to his father, who shook his head.

"Gideon was poison to him," Leo said. "Just like he was to Chris. There's nothing I can do."

The younger man didn't answer with much more than a nod of the head before he turned his attention on his brother. It was Wyatt who mattered now. It was always Wyatt who mattered. They were brothers. End of story. He quietly swallowed back his pain, which seemed to have grown to the point of numbing anyway. In one look he saw that his brother was fading so quickly, he knew they didn't have much time left. He could deal with the pain if it made Wyatt's last moments a little easier. The guy had been through enough. Bound and determined, even as their parents started to whisper next to them, Christopher laid down next to Wyatt so that his face was only inches from his brother's.

"Hey," he said with a wan smile.

"Been to any good massacres lately," Wyatt panted instead of what he intended to be a laugh.

"Please," Christopher scoffed. He lied to himself, like he liked to, that if he just cheered his brother on hard enough, he would be right. _Be okay. You have to be okay. He told me you would be okay_. _Please, please, please . . . _"That's barely a scratch. As soon as we heal that up, you and me, we're going to Australia. I hear it's nice there this time of year."

Leo wrapped one hand around his wife's shoulders, but continued trying to heal Wyatt with his free hand. He ignored the tears in his eyes as his hands searched for a way to heal the man, even though he knew that it would be just as futile to try to save this boy as it had been to save Chris and Lucy before him. He knew it was crazy. He'd just told Christopher so. And yet, he didn't know how to do anything else but try. Once again, one of his boys was going to die and he would be powerless to stop it. He caught a little movement in the corner of his eye and saw Wyatt's hand searching blindly for Christopher's. Leo reached in between his boys and joined their bloodied hands so that they could be together for their last few moments. With his other hand, he reached up to take comfort in Piper's arms as they wrapped around his neck in fear.

Wyatt started to laugh, but ended up coughing. Between gasps for air, he gulped with as much a smile as he could get, "Australia, huh?"

"It's about time, don't you think?"

"Y-yeah," whistled Wyatt, unable to force too much air from his lungs. It was really starting to hurt to talk. If he could only get that blood bubble out of the back of his throat, he'd probably be fine, but it didn't seem to want to move. He choked a little, though, which made it somewhat easier to say what he needed to say. "Hey, Ch-Chris?"

"Hmm?"

"Did we have a fight? I have this weird feeling w-we had a fight."

"Nah. We had a creative negotiation."

"Oh," said Wyatt, as if that was a perfectly logical explanation, one that explained any of what had happened to them the day before, let alone in the last seven years of their lives. Their fight either forgotten or forgiven, Wyatt's mind turned randomly to their sister, not knowing why he was going in that direction or if it was even a real direction to go in in the first place. "Do you think that if we hound h-her enough, she'll name the-the baby after me?"

"Ugly? You want her to name her kid 'Ugly'? Now that's a rotten way to start out a life," Christopher said softly. He fought to hold back the tears that were just waiting to make their debut. So much lost . . . "We'll see. For now, I think you need to save your strength, okay? We'll worry about baby names once the baby gets here."

"But she is pregnant, right? Everything is so fuzzy, like I've been drunk for a really, really long time or something. I think I know things, but then they just seem s-so — Hey, I f-forgot to tell you. There's a guy I need you to me-eet, Charlie. He's from Up There, but he's on our. . .on our side. He is this — Christopher? I — What was I saying? It's so hard to th-hink with this fog, I — She's mad at me, isn't she? She's been ignoring me for days now. I feel like I haven't seen her in days. She . . . I think she's mad at me."

"Not anymore," Christopher sniffed. "I promise. No one is mad at you anymore."

"Good. I hate it when you two are mad at me. Anyone else, I don't care. But you two, I can't take it when you're mad at me."

Christopher reached up with his bloodied hand, not caring anymore, and gently raked his brother's hair, over and over. Wyatt's eyes started to dull as the gesture started to lull him to sleep. He coughed back the tears and said, "I know. You never could. I promise, I'm never going to be mad at you, ever again."

"Good. I don't think I . . . Chris? I'm really tired."

"It's okay. Go to sleep. When you wake up, we'll . . . uh . . . You're going to feel so much better when you wake up. Everything will be better when we both wake up."

"You're tired, too?"

"Yeah. Really tired," Christopher sighed, grinding a bloody hand into his jeans to hide the stain.

"When we get h-home, we have _got_ to work on these co-dependency iss-ssues," said Wyatt bluntly around a cough.

"Definitely."

"But you'll be here when I wake up," asked Wyatt. "I don't know why, but I have this feeling you won't-t be here. I'm so tired, but I —"

"I'll be here. You're safe."

"Safe is good. I l-like safe. Hey . . . Let-let's not go to Austral-alia. I want to s-see the snow-ow gardens . . . Just you and me." Wyatt's eyes closed for too long a time. Just when Christopher was about to shake him awake, though, he blinked exhaustedly. His eyes were unfocused, but somehow still found his brother. He sounded so sad as he confessed, "I haven't felt safe in a long time. So tired. I haven't been able to just close my eyes in years. It was like you were gone."

Christopher was happy to let his brother think that he was the one who was lost in these last moments. If that meant that Wyatt would finally have some serenity in his life (or afterlife), he was okay with that. He squeezed Wyatt's hand as hard as he could. He didn't bother to hide the tears in his voice as he said, "I'm here now. I'll always be here. You really are safe."

"So are you, you know."

"I know." Christopher held his breath as his brother smiled then took his last breath. As Wyatt's features settled into a look of true peace, Christopher could feel himself smiling. He pressed a kiss into his brother's hair. "Blessed be, big brother. May you finally find peace."

With his family gathered around him, the future king of the magical world slowly faded away to the loss of all.

When Wyatt was gone, Christopher closed his eyes tightly. He had to fight the impulse to scream and swear and throw a childish snit to rival all snits. He most wanted to blast Wyatt to Hell — not his Wyatt, the one from Chris's world. How could he have asked his brother to that? And how could Chris have even remotely thought that that was okay to tell him? It was beyond cruel. But then, they didn't know that. They weren't the ones who had to do it. Damn them both anyhow.

Christopher didn't realize that he'd been occupied wit his thoughts for so long when he felt his father worriedly shaking him awake. "Dad?"

Leo was holding Christopher with his son's back up against his chest, attempting to help the man sit up. His arms were held out straight in front of him on either side of his boy, hands shaking. "What — what is _that_?"

The blood on Leo's hands was fresh, not the already brown rust from Wyatt's unhealable wounds. Christopher weakly shrugged and said the same thing he'd said to his brother, "It's a scratch. Don't worry. You worry too much."

With trembling fingers, Piper ignored the declaration, reached over and pulled at the oversized shirt on her son's chest. There was an urgency to her as she gave up being able to save the shirt (one of Leo's many plaid flannels) and yanked the two panels apart, sending buttons flying in every direction. Immediately her hands pulled back when she found the inky black mess on her son's chest. "Oh, god."

Christopher didn't bother to look down or respond. Quite frankly, he was too tired to. Besides, the look on his mother's face was enough. Quietly he tried to give her something to do. "It's okay, Mom. Just take Wyatt downstairs. I don't want him to see this." When she looked like she was going to argue, he pleaded, "Please. For both of us."

Piper sniffed back tears then hauled herself painfully to her feet with barely a nod. Nodding would be admitting that something was wrong. She hadn't even been here last time, but she still couldn't do this again. No way. Nuh-uh. This was _not_ going to happen. So maybe if she took Wyatt to Paige and came back, it would give Leo enough time to fix it. He had to fix it. Doing this was otherwise completely unacceptable.

Once his mother was going, Christopher tried to give his father a grin, despite the returning pain in his wounds. "Wow. Dad, you never . . . never told us how much dying sucks."

"I didn't know I had to. What is that?"

"The same thing that took Lulu, I think."

Leo gulped back sickness. He already knew the answer, but asked anyway, "You're telling me there's nothing I can do?"

"You can . . . You can talk to me."

Leo held Christopher harder, as if holding his son to this world could keep the angels from taking his boy away from him a second time. "Don't go."

"Please, Dad, t-talk to me."

"Okay," said Leo in a strangely quiet, accepting voice. He sounded like he was trying to make this as easy as possible, knowing that begging wasn't going to get it done, not after three deaths before this. It was too much to try to fix it anymore. He'd keep trying, but he wasn't going to let his son see him afraid, not anymore. They'd all had enough of that. He was beyond being afraid anymore. Now he was just plain ticked off and would remain so long after this son was gone. In the same quiet voice, he started, "With everything that's happened in the last few days, I haven't had a chance to tell you about the day that we brought you home from the hospital. . . "

The golden glow that Leo wanted so desperately to come to heal his boy refused to appear even as he did as requested. He would do his best to make his son's death easy if he had to, but that didn't mean that he couldn't' try to prevent it at the same time. When Piper returned after sending Wyatt to Valhalla with Paige, he gave her a tearful warning look before she sat down next to her men.

_It's happening again and there's nothing we can do. Again._

Together, the three of them sat quietly for a while, willing Christopher to live even though they all knew it was impossible. Leo held his son and wife in his arms, rocking them both gently until his son eventually fell asleep. Leo choked on a sob and pulled Piper closer when they felt their son go the way of his sister and brother. Piper collapsed on his chest when their baby boy faded out of their arms, leaving them alone once more.

For the second time in less than a month, the parents were left to mourn alone. They held each other close, unable to let go. They were so lost in their grief that they didn't notice the new figure in the room, staring down at them with a gentle, warm smile.

"Have either of you looked outside tonight? It really is a beautiful night to die."

* * *

_If you had half as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it, then I had twice as much fun writing it as you had reading it. Heh. Thanks for reading. _


	11. For Good

**Chapter Eleven  
****For Good**

"Who are you," asked Leo, immediately standing up and sheltering Piper behind him.

"Clarence," asked Piper, stepping out from behind her charmingly overprotective husband. She eyed the dear man she'd hired nearly a year ago, but couldn't quite make herself take a defensive position. Something told her that she didn't need to. His eyes still radiated kindness, despite his random appearance in her home. "I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

"Let's just say that I'm more of a family friend than you think," said Clarence. The gentleman gestured the parents to the sofa with a sweep of his hand. "Please, sit down. We have a lot to discuss, if you'll only give me a moment."

A snap of his fingers echoed on the walls while five bodies flashed into the room: Phoebe, Paige, and Victor, who was holding his grandsons. The adults all looked around confusedly until they saw Piper and Leo. Seeing no defensive posturing, Victor only shrugged.

"That was different," the grandfather said.

Paige eyed the janitor up and down before asking her eldest living sister, "What's going on?"

With a twinkle in his eye, Clarence smiled at the new arrivals. "If you would take a seat, I can explain."

Phoebe interrupted the man, stepping forward to stand between the parents and the janitor. "How — how — how did you get in here? How did _we_ get here? Who are you?"

"It's all right, Phoebe," said Clarence. "I had some business to take care of before I could show myself, but now it's time we had a bit of a family meeting."

Stubbornly, Phoebe refused to move and asked, "What kind of family meeting?"

Even with the inquisitorial tone of all of their voices, Clarence kept a very even, quiet calm about him. He gave up offering to the family to make themselves comfortable for the duration; he had expected them to have a hard time with his appearance. He'd had enough warning over the last few weeks and years on what it would be like to deal with the Halliwell clan as a whole. This was going exactly as expected, exactly as it had throughout the generations. Gently, he tried to keep that essence of calm and explained, "One that, now that the details are all in place, required my immediate attention and that you all need to be present for."

Having found his way back in front of his wife on the sofa in a futile effort to be her protector for once, Leo eyed the gentleman, his eyes going wide with realization. The deaths of his children could be the only explanation for things finally clicking into any place, especially after the man's cryptic greeting. Leo didn't like it one bit. "You're an angel of death?"

Paige sat down in the squishy chair, hard, all of the circumstances coming together for her in one big bang. "_You're _the Clarence Grams was talking about yesterday? I can't believe I didn't put the two together. You're the one who took Chris. You're the one he told us about when he almost didn't make it the day of Wyatt's birthday party."

"I came for him, yes, as well as for Christopher and Wyatt today," said the angel. "Time was, I came for you once upon a time as well. I'm glad to see Chris got all of that to work out with the Titans this time around. You weren't meant to be on my list that day. But yes, your nephews are what we need to talk about now, all of us."

Another wave of his hand and the room flashed a bluish white. As soon as it appeared, the light was gone. In its wake, a grinning Chris was left sitting on the arm of the sofa. "Isn't it a beautiful day to die," asked the ghost with mock incredulity. "Clarence, man, you need a new shtick. Seriously." To his stunned and battle-weary family, he grinned, "Hi, guys!"

No one said anything for the briefest of seconds, their eyes all popping wide doing it for them. Then, with a tear-streaked face colored with apology, Piper said, "No offense, kiddo, I love you, but I think I really need to sit down."

Chris scrunched up his face in an '_I Hate to Point Out the Obvious But . . .'_ kind of look and said, "You are sitting down."

"Besides the point," she said back, her voice cloudy. She looked up at her husband, feeling her hand unconsciously wriggling into his. "This is too much," she said brokenly. "It's — "

"It's why I'm here," said Clarence, interrupting once again. "I know a lot has happened . . . "

The angel had intended to look at each of the family members to make sure that they were on the same page as him, but caught something else. Hearing his words, Piper and Leo were both fixated on the spot from where he had moments before taken first Wyatt then Christopher. From his perch on the sofa, Chris was fixated on the spot where he had fallen a few short weeks before. Phoebe, too, was seeing the same place, living it out in her own memory, her hand automatically going to her side where the blade had plunged into Chris's gut. Only Paige and Victor met his eyes, waiting for the all-important meeting to begin so that they could get through it and mourn their respective nephews and grandsons.

Thoughtfully, Clarence suggested, "Why don't we move this to someplace a little less loaded for the time being? Leo, would you mind?" With barely a nod, Leo orbed them all down to the living room, placing them all on the furniture in pretty much the same positions they had been in the attic, leaving only Clarence standing. With a grateful smile, Clarence said, "Now, let's try this again. A great deal has happened to you all over the last thirty years, give or take, depending on your vantage point in history. It has taken a lot of work, but we have finally put it all back the way it was meant to be. It's been messy, and not everything has happened exactly as it should have, but the important thing is that Paige, Wyatt, and Chris are now all safe again."

The proverbial light bulb that went off in Chris's head was blinding to him so that he blurted, "You're the one who sent Wyatt in the first place!"

"It was the one piece to all of this that I asked him not to tell you before sending you back," the angel agreed. "After what had happened when I sent Wyatt back the first time to Octavius, I couldn't risk you knowing that it was Destiny and I who had sent him. After he was thrust back into the future, we sent him to you, knowing that if he told you enough, you could figure things out for yourself. Still, if things didn't work out for you, I needed to be able to try again. Those who I have been working with to put this right have been very careful to keep our efforts concealed from even you so that we couldn't be thwarted by Octavius or any others. If he had been even remotely tipped off, all of this might have been lost. We couldn't take that chance."

Angrily, Piper asked, "You manipulated my children?"

"No, Piper, of course not," said Clarence. "We simply gave your boys the chance to right their own lives. Destiny never intended anything but good for your sons. When the Elders changed their futures, we knew that we were going to be unable to fix things from the outside. We had to let the boys do it themselves."

"Did you know they were going to die like this," asked Piper, still not believing the angel she had trusted. God, she had let him watch over Chris when he was staying in the office. She had trusted him to keep an eye on Chris. How could she have been so blind? "Did you know what Gideon was going to do to him?"

From his position on the sofa, Chris's eyes fell to the carpet, suddenly very interested in the pattern on his great-grandmother's least favorite rug.

"No, we didn't. We never imagined that it would go beyond Chris. That all of this had to come down to Christopher, Lucy, and Wyatt was completely unexpected." With a teasing but approving grin, the angel directed a jibe at Chris. "If _someone _had gone where he was supposed to go . . . "

"_Now_ he tells me," said Chris with a roll of his eyes.

Confused, Piper asked, "What do you mean, _'where he was supposed to go'_? Freya said he was given a choice."

"Only because he stormed off Up There before I could take him to where he was meant to go. Instead, Christopher's soul had to be released so that the baby could be born. No matter what was happening, we couldn't very well let the baby be born without a soul. Things were chaotic enough as it was. It is an easy enough fix now, but it certainly gave those of us involved quite a headache in the meantime."

Chris saw the snide comment about his uncanny ability to mess things up about to fall off Phoebe's lips and quickly shut it down. "Don't even think about saying it. I totally saved your ass — from beyond the grave, even."

"Not anymore," said Clarence, beaming.

All eyes in the room flew to the janitor, an entire range of looks on their owners' faces. Confusion. Shock. Excitement. Only Chris looked at him with wariness, but he kept his seat and remained carefully guarded. He had to at least hear the man out. The old ghost had helped him this far. Maybe he still had one more trick up his sleeve.

The janitor held his hands straight out in front of him, palms up. From out of thin air, a very ancient looking wooden sepulcher appeared on top of them. It was small, barely a foot on either side, but it looked monstrously heavy. With a wave of his hand, it took its place in the middle of the circle the family had made, and floated there as if held up by invisible strings.

Leo had heard of such chests, although he'd never actually seen one. "Is that what I think it is?"

A sly smile played on Clarence's face as his arm swept out. "Come on out, kids."

From the corner of the room, the transparent figures of both Christopher and Wyatt appeared, beaming with arms slung over each other's shoulders. Butch and Sundance had most definitely been reunited. They started forward to join their family once again, only to both stop and look back. They looked at each other then reached into the middle of nowhere and together pulled at something that none of the others could see.

Clarence's voice was gentle as he urged, "It's all right, Sweetheart. You can come out."

Shyly, a third body started to form although it stayed a tad more transparent than the others. Even though Leo had already guessed who his sons had turned back for, it was a relief to see her standing between them now . . . or rather, at least partially see her. He felt Piper hold his hand a little tighter, a low gasp in her throat. Suddenly Victor's jibe from a week ago seemed to be even more accurate than it had been before. _I'm sorry, Honey, but I swear, this house sees more dead people than a graveyard._ Oh, so true. Oh, so very true.

As if Victor knew what his son-in-law was thinking, the man had to chuckle, if for no other reason than that it would make all of this magical wackiness seem a little more normal than it could ever possibly be. He looked mostly at his three boys as he said, "You kids don't stay dead long, do you?"

"Family practice," said Wyatt wryly, absently scratching at his no longer wounded chest. Standing in between his two Chrises, he added, "Some of us more than others."

"Can we not talk about that, please," Lucy said. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion. You know, big battle won, puppies and prizes to follow?"

At the same time, both Wyatt and Christopher said, "You're allergic to dogs."

"Whatever."

Leo saw his daughter roll her eyes and could have sworn he'd just seen his mother do it. Eerie as it was, it gave him a kind of hope that he knew had to come from outside of this mess. Granted, Lucy wasn't exactly outside the mess, but she also wasn't either of her brothers. She was someone new, someone who, even if Wyatt hadn't been saved, would still represent a newer, better future for their family. Her existence alone was something of hope for him and his wife. Some things were going to work out. Now, with any luck, all of it would.

With that hope, he squeezed his wife's hand and asked of all of his children, "Is she right? Is this a happy occasion?"

Quickly, Lucy said with a shrug, "_I_ think it is. They might not, but I do."

"Which I'm sure we're all glad to hear," said Paige with a cringe. She hated to put it this way, but she asked anyway, "Except that we don't know who you are."

Chris gave his counterpart and his brother The Look. With a chuckle, he said, "For old time's sake?"

Together, the four of them said, "Future consequences!"

While all of the "adults" rolled their eyes, Wyatt and Christopher flanked their sister. Wyatt said by way of introduction, "She's with us."

Lucy swept her hand in a wide-circled Howdy Doody wave, embarrassed smile on her face. She looked down at her feet the entire time. She knew her identity had been long divulged to her father and Phoebe, but she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about them or the others knowing or not. Not that there was much to do. She had died after all. It wasn't until she felt her brothers at her sides, guarding her against any and all reaction, that she let her stiffened shoulders relax to only half stiff. Shyly, she said, "Hi."

"It's good to see you," said Leo with a smile. "I was worried."

The woman pishawed her father, "Don't be. I don't exist yet. There's nothing to worry _about_, so to speak."

Piper looked hopefully on the girl who she had been told would one day be her daughter and said, "But one day you will. That's good enough for the two of us."

"Exist, yes," said Clarence. "How she will exist is not yet determined."

Both parents threw their eyes on the angel of Death, immediately concerned. "What does that mean?"

Surprisingly calm in her voice, Lucy told them (and her brothers who had yet to hear the explanation she had been given), "It's okay. I was given a job to do. I did my job. When it really is my time, I'll come along. Whether that's as your daughter or in a future generation, we don't know. At least, Clarence isn't telling us. Same for my Christopher. Until then, I'm perfectly content knowing that I did what I was supposed to do."

"We went to a lot of trouble to get things on track from what had been done. Once Chris chose to remain here to continue his work, Lucy became as much a part of our efforts on the other end of the timeline as Chris and Christopher's separation."

"See," she said with a perky cocking of her head. "Puppies and prizes."

Thoughtfully from his perch on the arm of the sofa, Chris said to his aunt, "You remember what I told you, Phoebe? That from this point on, you need to start living in the present instead of the future? This is your chance to do that. That's the reward here for all of you. No more worrying about the future. Period. The four of us are all safe. Wyatt is no longer at risk. It's safe to be normal again."

Worriedly, Victor glanced at all of his grandchildren — dead, alive, or otherwise — and said, "Hold on. That doesn't sound right. It can't be that easy. What's going on here?"

Christopher waved his excited grandfather down. "It's okay, Grandpa. We're here to say '_goodbye_'."

"'_Goodbye_' how," asked Paige. "I don't like how that sounds either."

Clarence gestured at the three other kids from the future to come out from behind the sofa and join them as he said, "Which is why you are all here. There has been a great deal of cost to this family in order to fix what went wrong. I won't deny that. But now that things are indeed settled and back on the track that they were meant to be, I don't want anyone trying to fix anything out of a mistaken need to save anyone or to stop anything else from happening. Things are now as they were meant to be. Are we clear?"

Chris could practically feel the angel's gaze leveled on him. He held his quiet for as long as he could until he broke out laughing under the heat. "Okay, okay, I get it. No more. You wanna drop an anvil on my head just to make sure?"

Carefully, Piper asked, "What does that mean?"

"It means that all of these kids are now going to go to their rightful places — " Clarence stopped for a moment and looked at Chris. The younger man met the angel's eyes head on, sensing where this was going. " — depending on what Chris decides their rightful places are."

"Clarence, man, I can't decide that," argued Chris. "I can't decide that for them."

Piper grabbed one of the little decorative pillows from the sofa and threw it at the younger of her two future Chrises. "Yeah, hi, remember us? Explain please."

Wyatt looked down on his smaller self with a huge, beaming smile. "We get a _Do Over_."

"Clarence is a special division angel of Death, right," asked Leo, looking at the janitor for confirmation at his guess. When he got an affirmative nod, Leo said, "He's a Keeper."

The ghostly janitor nodded, "Among other things. Even if that weren't my job, this would have been a special case. Between Freya and I, we certainly had our work cut out for us over the next twenty-five years." The angel directed a fond but teasing grin at Chris and said, "In three thousand years, I have never had so much trouble with one soul as I have with this one. It was kind of fun."

Even in his death, Wyatt had been unable to let go of all of the guilt he carried for what had been done in his name for so long. The trickery of that fateful day in the snow gardens was right up there in his Top Five Most Horrible Moments list. His eyes bounced between Chris and Clarence, now needing to be sure of one thing. "So it was really Chris that day? We were right?"

The angel didn't offer a direct answer, but instead said carefully, "When Freya came to me once the snow gardens were complete, we both knew there was only person capable of being a guardian to you as children. It wasn't even a decision. He belonged there with you. I was happy to let him go."

As per usual, all of the talk of time and Here and There was giving Phoebe a massive confusion headache. She raised her hand from under her chin and waved it around in a sarcastic flip flop. "Okay, see, am I the only one that none of this is making sense for? How could you even know what's happened in their future? You talk like you've been there."

Leo stepped in to explain, knowing that it would probably sound better (for her) coming from him instead of the virtual stranger in front of them. "As a Keeper, Clarence has the ability to travel back and forth through time in regards to the souls under his care. That's why he was able to get Chris to the snow gardens — "

"And to Lu, right," asked Christopher. He was pretty sure he had been right, but he wanted to know for sure. The idea that Chris's soul would have found peace after Lucy's death had been one of the few comforts that he and Wyatt had afforded themselves in this mess of the last few days. He had to know that they hadn't been wrong and left him to something worse.

Chris, however, wasn't going to let him have an answer. He crinkled up his face and said, "No offence, Lucy, I'm sure you would have and will one day be a great mom, but I really don't want to know if that little brain child was right or not. It's a little too creepy for me to want to know that one."

Lucy eyed the man who was an identical copy of her brother, the one who had stepped in and tried to treat her like a sister from the moment he'd come to get her with their ghostly cruise director. Immediately she had to agree. She'd heard what Christopher's idea had been about Chris being her baby just to give her the memory of him and Wyatt. Having spent time now with Chris, she didn't think she wanted the answer either. It was a little too weird, even for this family. With a scrunchy face, she seconded the motion. "Same here. No, thank you."

Quickly changing the direction, Clarence added, "It's how I was able to work with first Wyatt and then, through him, Chris to get him back here to the past in the first place. I work for both Death and Destiny. When things need fixing, like they did here, I'm the one they call. Between Bob and myself, we — "

"_Bob_," asked Paige incredulously. "The angel of Destiny is named Bob? Seriously?"

"It's what we call him around the office," laughed Clarence. "None of us really want to have to call him by his real name all the time. Trust me. It makes German sound like a pretty language when put up against his name. But anyway. The point is, between the two of us, we were able to get things back on track. This is the last piece we need to do. While I'm sure that you would all like to prolong this moment for as long as possible, I'm afraid that Destiny does need to get back to work. You have lives to lead."

Volunteering to get things moving along, Chris stood up from the arm of the sofa and asked, "What do we need to do?"

"That's up to you," said Clarence. "You have a few choices. The first is how you want to spend the next eighty years or so of your existence, I suppose. If you want, you can come back with me. I can take you to Freya. Or, if you choose, you have a childhood to experience with your family the way you were meant to experience it, free of the kind of loss that stunted all of your futures."

Chris's eyes immediately flew to Christopher's, wide with confusion and concern. "That . . . That can't be right. What about him? He — "

"Christopher's options are the same. If he wants, he can come with me or to Valhalla. Freya has already agreed to it. However, Christopher, if you so choose, you have the option to stay with your brother and sister, ready to emerge into the world when your time has truly come. Lucy and Wyatt will be returning with me. They will be safe until their times have arrived. It's the two of you who are the concern."

Chris shook his head. He couldn't believe this. He had already resigned himself to spending the rest of his existence on the ghostly plane. He had already formed a relationship with his aunt Prue and his great-grandmother and grandmother. He had met so many people that he never would have known otherwise, like his great-grandfather Alan. So much had been decided. It had taken everything he had to realize that he wasn't going back to the future he had worked for. He wasn't going to see his brother again. He was going to have to accept that he was gone and in a place that wasn't his to begin with. How could that change on him now? He had wanted to believe that Clarence was on his side and was going to make this as easy on him as possible. That's what he'd said that very first time he'd come. How could he go back on that now? This wasn't fair. This was more than just a cruel carrot. This was . . .This was . . . Yeah, it was horribly cruel.

"No," said Christopher quietly. He could imagine what his counterpart was thinking, mostly because he knew he would probably be thinking exactly the same thing. Christopher put a staying hand on his counterpart's forearm. "It's okay, Chris," he said. "You don't have to decide anything." With a look at his brother and sister, he spoke for all of them, "I think we just want to stay together."

Softly, Lucy said, "We've earned it."

"But that's — "

"What we want," interrupted Wyatt. "It's what we want for you, and it's what we want for us."

"It's what I want for you, too," added Christopher.

"But — "

Sensing that a decision had been made and wanting to keep it that way before Chris could try to tell any of them otherwise, Leo asked Clarence, "What happens now?"

Clarence smiled at Chris as if what he was about to say was meant specifically for him, but addressed them all. "Now you go back to your lives and try to live them instead of forgetting that there is a world out there beyond the future."

"It was a beautiful night to die," said Wyatt, strange smile in his eyes.

Chris immediately agreed, "It was a beautiful day to die."

Lucy reached down and took her brothers' hands in hers, squeezed, then stepped forward, the first to volunteer. A bright smile lit her face as she nodded at Clarence. "It's a good day to start over." She quickly turned to her mother and said, "It was really good to see you, even if just for a minute." To her father she said, "It was so nice to meet you. I believed you when you said you would come. It wasn't how you'd probably planned it, but you came for me anyway. So thanks."

Behind her, Wyatt said, "We'll be right behind you."

The girl — this time, Leo thought, she was a girl, his girl — smiled at them all, looking at her family for what was probably the only time she would ever see them whole and hers. Her face never faltered, but as Clarence raised his hands to commence, she hollered, "Wait!" She dashed to Chris's side, throwing her arms around his neck. Chris flinched back for the quickest second before grinning himself and pulling her tight. "Thank you," she whispered to him.

Chris didn't have any idea what to say back to her, so he just squeezed her tighter. He hoped that that would be enough. When she giggled in his ear, he knew it was.

Lucy held Chris's hand this time as she turned back to Clarence. "Okay. Hit me."

The Keeper raised both hands out in front of himself, palms up again. He swept his right hand around in a small circle. With the motion, Lucy's body spun apart until it formed a small, golden orb. It hovered in the air just above the wooden casket, bouncing with anticipation.

"She always is the first one into everything," said Christopher with a fond smile. "It makes us look like such losers," he laughed. He cocked an eyebrow at his brother and held out his fist. Immediately knowing what was going on, Wyatt followed suit. After three rounds of 'Rock, Paper, Scissors', Wyatt was the next to go. Christopher shrugged and explained further, "And I always win." He kicked his foot backward into his brother's ass, just like they had done so many times when they were kids. He couldn't help it. He felt like a little kid again. Giddy as could be, he taunted his brother, "Putz."

Wyatt kicked him back. "Right back at you." He didn't know what to say to the others. It had been such a strange couple of days and one very long one that, thankfully, was over. Trying to keep the moment light, he shrugged at them all. "Try to keep me out of trouble, would you?"

The man's parents took turns hugging him and telling him to be safe, but they otherwise kept the _Goodbyes_ short and to the point. It wasn't really _Goodbye_, not anymore. In two days, he had become theirs again, but it was still only two days. _Goodbye_ and _Thank You_ were really all there could be. There was love, but it wasn't what it would one day be. So for now, it was more like a _See You Later_. They had an entire lifetime of trying to fix this now, and Wyatt in particular was ready to get there. Piper strangely thought as Wyatt swirled into his golden ball of light that Freya had been right, not just about Chris, but about all of her kids. They had all had enough _Goodbye_. This way was much, much better.

When it was Christopher's turn, he was nothing but smiles. After saying his farewells to his aunts, he gave his father a secret smile. "Thanks for not letting me screw this up too badly."

"Any time. That's what Dads do."

"I'm learning that," said Christopher. He then gave up fighting the urge and hugged his father for the first time in so many years that he couldn't remember the last time he had actually done it. Into the angel's shoulder, he said, "You be careful."

"You, too."

"Find that baseball, Dad. He'll like that. I did." Before they could say anything else or get too syrupy like Clyde had pointed out, Christopher turned to his mother. He didn't say anything at first, not knowing what he could say. So much had happened in just the week he'd been there.

Piper, too, didn't know exactly what to say. Well, she knew what she wanted to say, but she also knew that he didn't want to hear it. She'd tried that before. Instead, all she could tell him was "We'll see each other again."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too. Take care of them."

Christopher stepped back and offered a hand to his other self, relief washing over the both of them when Chris took it. At the same time, they both said, "Thanks. No, thank you. I said it first. Jinx."

"Freaks," said Paige, wide grin plastered on her face. The two of them made identical sarcastic faces right back at her. When she saw the looks, she added, "Of sideshow proportions."

Lovingly, Christopher flipped his aunt the bird as he nodded to Clarence and became another bouncing ball of glimmering light. The three sibling orbs danced happily together, taking one last turn around the family members, circling their heads in a glorious little jig until they settled themselves in front of the box that reappeared in the Keeper's hands.

Clarence opened the lid of the ancient box and, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, the three orbs of light flew into the safety of the velvet-lined sanctuary. He closed the lid gently then let his hands leave the sides of the box so that it hovered mid-air. Another twist of his wrist and the box collapsed on itself into a ball of light that extinguished in his other open palm. With a satisfied smile, he told the family, "They will be safe now. The boys will both be given a fresh start when it is truly meant to be their time. I give you my word: they will be safe."

"Thank you," Piper said gratefully, squeezing Leo's arms around her just a little tighter.

"The only question then is you, Chris," said Clarence. "I can give you one of two choices."

"Which are?"

"To remember all of this and everything you've been through . . . " Clarence carefully watched his charge as he offered up his first option. He wasn't too surprised to find that the young witch didn't flinch once. He didn't even look uncomfortable with it. "Or peace. If you want, you can have that new beginning that you wanted and gave to your brother. No memories, no pain, no nightmares. Just the opportunity to get to know your brother and the rest of your family the way you were meant to, without the interference of outside forces."

Chris glanced at Phoebe, the second option flickering in his head for all of a second. When he saw her face, though, and remembered the sight of the bruises and cuts on her cheek, the remnants of her transplanted fight with his brother, he knew immediately that he couldn't do it. Those were his memories. She may have them, but they were his to have and deal with, for better or worse.

His mind pretty much already made up, Chris asked, "If I choose to remember, how would that work? What would happen to me?"

"Exactly what would have happened to you before if you hadn't caused so much trouble when you died. Your soul will be put back into your body, the infant one over there. You'll grow up, you'll live your life. Somewhere along the line, memories of your past life will come to you, almost like déjà vu. I can help your family write a spell for you that will keep them from ever coming to you all at once, just to make sure. We could even arrange a particular day for you to start to get them, if you want. Whatever we have to do to make it easier for you. But in the end, you'll remember, but you won't."

Confused, Chris asked, "But if I'm going to go back into that body, what's going to happen to the soul that's in there?"

Clarence gave Chris a little smile. "That little soul came out of the box about twenty-five years too early. He needed to keep your place so that you could do other things for a while. Let's just say that Christopher had a few ideas that were startlingly accurate. We had to go to an awful lot of trouble to fix Octavius and Gideon's mess, but it has all worked out in the end. The little guy in there will be coming with me and join with Christopher again, ready to take the world by storm when his time comes. But, when you're ready here, he's ready to let you take _your_ rightful place in the world and to take his when his time comes."

No one was all that surprised by Chris's answer, but none of them really liked it. Phoebe absolutely hated it. She went over to her nephew and took him by the hand, hoping that feeling her hand would remind him that she was in fact on his side, even if she hadn't always seemed to be. Sadly, she said, "You don't have to do this. You're in my head now, remember? I'll know what to look for. You and Wyatt would be safe. You don't have to live with that anymore. Give yourself that _Do Over_ that you gave them. Let us all take care of you kids now. It's our job, not yours."

Chris seemed to think about the offer for a moment, but when he spoke, he sounded more than sure of what he wanted anyway. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Not everything about my life before was bad. I had parents and a brother and an aunt who loved me. I had a lot of good. If I give all of that up, I'd be giving them up, too. And while the time I had here wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done, we had some good times here, too. I don't want to forget sitting up all night with you the night you found out about me or sitting up with Mom when she was having morning sickness. I don't want to forget hanging out with any of you."

Paige looked at her nephew curiously. "We kicked you out of the house. Your dad damned near put your head through a wall. We — "

"You did what you thought was right for Wyatt. I have never been mad at you for that. You think I don't know where I get my stubbornness from? You think I don't know how I ended up being the workaholic that I am? I never blamed any of you for how things happened when I was here before. It isn't in our nature to trust those on the outside. For all you knew, I was the threat. It was okay then and it's okay now."

Leo turned to Clarence protectively. "How about we do it like this? We wait until his eighteenth birthday. The spell will hold until then. We can all sit down together and tell Chris what happened. After he's heard it all, then we can give him the option to remember it or not. It doesn't have to be a decision made today, does it?"

Clarence asked, "Chris?"

"Yeah, that works," he said gratefully. "As long as Wyatt stays safe, yeah." Suddenly, his eyes flashed open with concern. He was in no way taking any chances with his brother's or anyone else's safety. He wasn't agreeing to anything until all of their bases were covered. "Wait a minute. What about the snow gardens? Who's going to take care of them if I'm _one_ of them? I can't exactly be in two places at once."

"I'm sure Freya and I can come up with a suitable replacement," said Leo. "I can think of three witches Over There who would probably volunteer without a second thought."

"But they wouldn't know what to look for. I didn't get enough time with them to tell them every — "

"Chris," started Piper. She stood so that she could look her son in the eyes, those beautiful eyes, and held his hands tightly in hers. "Baby, listen to what we're all trying to tell you. It's done. You don't have to worry about Wyatt anymore, not like that. You are free now to just be a kid again. You get to let him look out for you for once. It really is okay."

A certain sadness for so many things crunched Chris's eyes into near slits as he said, "I don't know how to do that."

Piper looked over to where Little Wyatt was once again orchestrating an orb symphony for his little counterpart. "You have an entire childhood ahead of you to figure out how. He's going to make sure of that."

"But — "

"But nothing," the mother said. "Please, Chris. This is your chance. This is everything you worked for. Twenty years from now when you and I are standing here like this again, I want you to be able to smile at me like you actually know how. I want you to look at me and not be sad. When I think back on it, I realize that I can't remember a time when you looked at me with anything but sadness. I want that look gone. I want my son to grow up happy. That's all any of us want for you. We want you happy. Take this chance, please. I don't want our lives together to be about regret."

Surprised, Chris said, "Mom, I don't regret any of this."

"But I do," said Piper. Involuntarily, the mother's throat clenched. She coughed around it then asked, even though she knew it would make no sense to anyone but her, "What's your favorite color?"

Chris bit his lip in both surprise and absolute giddiness. He'd wanted so badly for her to ask him something about himself. It was one of the few times he thought about himself the entire time he was there. He had wanted her to want to know him for something besides his mission. It hadn't happened often, mostly when he was falling asleep into fitful dreams that he would want it, but he did want it. Maybe it was coming a little bit later than he'd wanted, but she had finally asked, and that was all that mattered. "Blue. My favorite color is blue."

"Favorite movie?"

"_The Usual Suspects_."

"Favorite song?"

"_Stairway to the Stars._ You're going to sing it to me on a very special occasion, just you and me. Otherwise, it's something that you aren't going to hear for a very long time. You didn't like it, by the way. You bought me earphones just so that you wouldn't have to hear it anymore."

The smile Chris now had on his face hadn't gone unnoticed. Remembering the conversation she'd had with Piper about this very idea just last week, Paige told her nephew, "We're sorry we didn't ask sooner."

"I didn't expect you to, and it wasn't like I was offering up the information either," said Chris all too quickly. He knew it was a gut reaction to make it all better — he saw now that he was his father's son in so many ways — but he still secretly relished the apology. It was small, but it was enough. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw Clarence tap his wrist at a non-existent watch and sighed. It was harder than he'd thought it would be, but it was getting to be time. Pushing hope into his voice, he said, "And we have plenty of time to figure that out over the next twenty years."

A dark silence followed, leaving everyone feeling awkward and sad. They had done this before, but this time, it felt both better and worse. This was really it, and none of them seemed to know where they were going to go from that point on.

Awkwardly, Chris said, "Okay, somebody say something. Please."

"Is anyone else feeling a little déjà vu here," asked Paige in an attempt to lighten the mood. She looked around at the sad faces in the living room and smiled brightly, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong at all with what was about to happen. Then again, if everything they had been through in the last two years was turning out the way it was supposed to, finally, there really _wasn't_ anything wrong. "C'mon, people. This is a good thing. We got it right. This is Chris's reward. We should be happy here."

Grateful for the effort, Chris offered his aunt a sparkling smile in return. With everything that had happened in the last few weeks, part of him knew that his father and his aunt had paid the biggest price. They would always have the memory of what the three of them had been through that day, no matter how things turned out in the future. He couldn't change that for them. But if she was okay with this, if she was the one telling everyone else to relax, then it really was time to be okay. They were all going to be okay now.

Hesitant to agree with his almost-daughter, Victor looked to Chris and Clarence for reassurance. "This is real now, right? All of my grandchildren are safe. No catches, no hijacked souls, no dying?"

"Yep, this is it," Chris said happily. He really did look so happy, happy in a way that no one in the family had ever seen him look before. He was right. This really was it. "I don't know exactly where it is that we're going from here, but it's someplace that I've never been before. I get the feeling it's going to be a good place to be. I've got my big brother looking out for me. How bad a place can that be?"

"Bite your tongue," Phoebe said, sort of jokingly with a shudder. "No tempting the wrath of the whatever high atop the thing."

"For the first time in my life, Phoebe, I mean that as a good thing. I'm not worried, so I don't want you to be either. This really is going to be okay."

Chris bent over from his position on the couch and pulled his brother up off the floor to sit in his lap. He hugged Wyatt close, almost to the point of suffocating the kid, as if hugging him could grant him a lifetime of safety and protection. He knew that nothing was guaranteed until he got to the future, but somehow he had to have hope for them this time. He had died for his brother and Wyatt had sacrificed himself for him. He knew that his baby self was going to be protected. That was a start.

As everyone else watched with looks of bittersweet happiness, Chris whispered into the toddler's ear, "You're going to be okay now, Wyatt. Mom and Dad can do the rest. But I promise, I'll be watching anyway. I _will_ see you in a few years. I promise."

The toddler Wyatt hugged his brother back, giggling happily as if he had some comprehension of what the real Chris was saying to him. He pointed a finger up at Chris's nose and softly said, "'e good."

"Yeah," Chris laughed. "Be good."

Piper's hand curled into Leo's as they watched their sons say goodbye again. She tried not to cry, really she did, but somehow seeing Wyatt talk to Chris made her so happy. It was her right as their mother to cry when they made her happy. Happy tears were a good thing in this family. Anyone who didn't understand that, well . . . They knew what they could go do to themselves.

Chris set his little big brother down and grinned wildly at him. "And you better be nice to me, you bum, or I'll tell Grandpa."

Victor regarded his grandson with amazement and a skeptically cocked eyebrow. "You really think I have any power over either of you?"

"You have a lot more than you think," said Chris.

" 'Cause I'm awesome?"

"None better, Grandpa."

For only the second time in their lives, Piper and Phoebe saw their father break down in tears. He still had a smile for his grandson, but there was no hiding the man's fear and sadness. Phoebe gave Piper a half a shrug, as if to say _Did you really expect anything less?_ Piper bit her lip to cover her teeth as she smiled happily back. It had taken several lifetimes, but they really were whole again.

Laughing and crying at the same time, Victor's request came out a clogged, "Come here, kid."

Chris let his grandfather pull him into his arms, wanting to feel the man's realness. Lucy had told him about them losing Victor. It was the one blessing he'd had in his life, never having to face that loss. He may have lost everything else, but his grandfather had always been there. To imagine anything else, at least in the midst of all of the rest of it, was too much. He felt his grandfather's hand at the back of his head, hugging him so tight. It was everything he had always needed and got from the man. He just wished he could tell him that.

All of the death going around was apparently too much for the other man as well because Victor said tearfully into his grandson's ear, "Don't you ever do that to me again, you hear me?"

"It's going to be okay, Grandpa," said Chris, patting his grandfather on the back.

"I get to go first," Victor argued, not accepting the boy's answer. "You promise me that."

Chris couldn't promise that. He knew better, especially in the family's line of work. What he would promise, however, that he would do his best. He put that promise into his tone as he told his grandfather, "We have a lot of talking to do, I promise."

A tired yawn that started with little Chris and was quickly seconded by his big brother let them all know that what remained of the night was growing very, very long. Little Wyatt started waving and sing-songing at them, "Nuh-nigh, nuh-nigh."

"I guess that's our cue," Chris said to Clarence. Still, there was one more loose end that Chris wanted to tie up before he was unable to influence the situation any longer. Looking both nervous and mischievous, Chris asked over his shoulder, "Hey, Dad? That question I asked you that day? Do you have a new answer for me yet?"

The Elder thought about it for a moment, then saw the confused look on his wife's face. Knowing then what question Chris was asking about, he gave his son a wink. "Your future is safe in that regard, I think."

"Good. That's the way it was meant to be, you know," said Chris, the last vestiges of the guilt over his parents' situation finally leaving him. He'd always known that they would find their way back to one another; it just took a little longer than he'd planned. Then again, nothing had worked out as planned. At least it still worked out. That thought in mind, Chris said, "Don't let this drive you too crazy on us, okay? I know you're never going to trust the Elders again, and I don't blame you, but don't let this take over your life. We're all safe now, okay?"

"Chris — "

"No, Dad. I may have been wrong about a lot of things and I may have been manipulated into being wrong about a lot of things, but I am not wrong about this. This goes for all of you. In a few minutes, I won't be dead anymore. All of this is over now. Don't let this take over your lives. Please. Find Barbas. Do what you gotta do. And I really wouldn't care if it was incredibly painful when you do. Do what you want to with the Elders. Shut them out or let them in; it's up to you. But let it end there. Don't make the rest of our lives be about what has happened now. There's no point in it. Let it go. We have lives to lead. This needs to be a home again."

When no one said anything reassuring back to him, Chris took his turn with each of them. First, to Paige, he said, "It's going to come back on you, you know. You're half Them, too. Zola was right. There is still a lot of good that this family can do, especially those of us genetically predisposed to it, you know? Don't let this keep you from doing that good, okay?"

Sensing that this was their semi-private _Goodbye_, Paige stepped close up to Chris and hugged him, this time without any sarcastic attempt to lighten her heart. Into his ear, she whispered her request, "As long as you promise you'll never die on me like that again."

"Right back at you," he said into her shoulder. With a light chuckle, he asked, "Is SuperWitch going to make a comeback any time here soon?"

"I think SuperAunt needs to have her chance first, if that's okay with you."

"I'd like that," he said then kissed her atop the head.

Chris would have said more, but Phoebe pulled him by the elbow away from her sister and into her own arms. "Hey," she said. "Share the boy now." With a big smile over her shoulder at her sister, she then turned into her nephew and stood on her tipped toes. Into his ear, she said, "You did good, kiddo. Thank you, for everything."

"Stay out of trouble now, right?"

With a wry smile, Phoebe said, "That goes for the both of us." She then gave her nephew a loving, tearful punch on the shoulder and pushed him away. "Now go, tell your parents you love them, then get the hell out of here. You have a life to live and so do we."

Unlike the last time they'd tried to say _Goodbye_, Piper, Leo, and Chris didn't bother trying to come up with the right words or try to make it easy on themselves at all. The parents surged forward and pulled their son in between them, burying him in a hug. Muffled tears could be heard outside the threesome, sniffles and clogged chuckles escaped, and even a few distorted words. No one asked what was being said between the three. This was their moment, one that didn't require invasion or eavesdropping. It was theirs as he was theirs. And it always would be.

When they emerged, it was only to allow them room to breathe without suffocating on the humidity of the tears in the huddle. Piper swiped at tears with the back of her hand while Leo just sniffed them back all too loudly. Chris would have done something about his own, but his hands were a little tied up entwined with theirs. No one said anything, but Chris sort of grunted permission to Clarence to get things over and done with.

After a wave of the Keeper's hand, one golden orb flew out of the box and hovered in the air like a bouncing ball. A moment later, a much smaller but just as brilliant globe of light escaped Baby Christopher's mouth. With a twirl of his index finger, the two globes swirled around one another, faster and faster, until, in a flash of golden light, they became one. The angel gave the orb a gentle smile, then beckoned it back home into the box. It bounced happily along the way, into a sanctuary that would one day open the world to new possibilities.

The angel had a gentle happiness in his voice as he backed up away from the family. "Okay, Chris. Your turn."

Almost as giddy as a kid on the last day of school once the bell rings, Chris stepped into the space left between his family and his caretaker. There were no signs of fear as he waved at them. "See you soon."

The young witch nodded at his caretaker, who nodded back proudly. Another wave of his hand turned Chris into a tornado of golden orbs that swirled just as the others had until they came together as one. With a zig and a zag, the globe continued its giddy bounce until it settled near the sleeping infant in Piper's arms. It gave one last swirl, flying up to circle around their heads and dive right into the baby. A wave of gold passed over the baby, warming his color and bringing a grin to his face, long before he should have been able to do so.

Finally, after everything, Chris Halliwell was home.

_It well may be That we will never meet again In this lifetime,  
So let me say before we part,  
So much of me Is made of what I learned from you.  
You'll be with me Like a handprint on my heart.  
And now whatever way our stories end,  
I know you have re-written mine By being my friend..._

* * *

**And now that this catastrophe is over . . . Boys?**

_Waldorf: Hey, that wasn't half bad._

_Statler: Nope. It was ALL bad!_

**Thanks, fellas! I knew I could count on you!**

**Author's Notes:**

Okay, that now catches us up with canon. Leo is free to have a nutty and kill Zola and become an avatar and all. Piper is free to have a nutty and lock the kids up until after the wedding. Everything is as it should be to begin series seven. It also makes their craziness make a little more sense than it did in the season premiere. Leo was a little _too_ crazy. Now he can be anti-Elder all he wants. I would. There was originally going to be a second part to this last chapter that would fast forward and let us know that it all worked out, but after writing three versions and not liking any of them, I decided this was a good enough place to stop. Hope that works for you all.

Here are some little tidbits and things you may or may not want to know . . .

For anyone interested, once it's been edited, _The Snow Gardens: An Interlude_ will be available to read soon. It's the story of the night in the attic between our first Chris and his brother the night they formulated their plan to send him to the past. It's the first thing I wrote in all of this, actually, but there never seemed to be a good place to put it. So keep an eye out if you want to know more. It's a stand-alone, so no big waits once it's up.

So with all of the fighting that has now come to pass in this thing, I have to know: did anyone else break out in song like I did? Just curious. _Please Mister Linesman, let the players fight. Please Mister Linesman, let the players fight. Let them fight, let them fight, let them fight, LET THEM FIGHT!_ . . . It was just me, huh? Oh, well. Funny.

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system . . .

For posterity's sake, this story was begun 24 June 2004 and completed 28 May 2007 with a year off in between chapters six and seven. It is 400 pages long in 9 point Georgia. It's been a wild, wacky, and sometimes shiny ride. Hope you enjoyed. So who'da'thunkit that I'd manage to actually get this done? My goal has been to finish a novel by my thirtieth birthday. It isn't the novel I imagined, but it's still a novel and it's still done. Yay me!

Regarding Plot Device #32 (known to you as Lucy), I hope she didn't come off as too much of a MarySue. To be honest, I don't know whether I believe that there will be a sister or brother or whatever for the two kids. The fact is, I really don't care any which way. I know some people have very adamant opinions about it that may have even turned them off this story just because she's there. As you can see, now that you've reached the end, she was never more than a plot device for me to 1) get Wyatt to the past, 2) get the sword to the past, and 3) put Christopher and Wyatt on the right track. If her character is annoying, I apologize. She just came out that way. Little sisters often do (I have one, I should know).

Special thanks to the guy who knows who this is about. I won't make him blush by putting his name in the credits. He knows who he is. He made this fun, encouraged me when it wasn't, and is a terrific guy. He deserves big, big credit for what you've read. Lots of credit. He should have enough to buy his entire dorm setup next fall. Love you, little brother. I most definitely have been changed for good because of you.

Last but certainly not least, Thank You to all of you who have read this entire monstrosity. I have had as many praises as complaints, so that makes me pretty happy. I know it isn't the easiest fic out there to trudge through, so good on you for making it through. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed at least parts if not all. You guys are my happy dance. I've got my something blue, two dollars off my other blue thing, and I'm on the table doing My Boogie Shoes. Thank you all!

**Credits:**

The title of the story, _The Snow Gardens_, was inspired by Christopher Rice's novel of the same name. I can tell you that that's as far the resemblance goes, however. Let's just say that the snow garden that is described at the end of his book is nowhere near as peaceful a place as the Halliwells' sanctuary. Theirs is a place of safety and happiness. His is, well, not. It's twisted, though, if you ever get the chance to read it, I would recommend it.

The lyrics at the top of the first chapter and in the epilogue are from the song _For Good_ from the musical _Wicked._ They're appropriate to the story, I think. Whenever I needed inspiration to write the story of Chris and Wyatt, I listened to two songs from that show, _Defying Gravity_ and _For Good_. Listen sometime and you'll understand why. And when that didn't work, Bruce Springsteen's _You're Missing_ from his _The Rising_ album was always a big, big help.

About the snow gardens: For those of you who don't know me, I grew up in the fantastic and lovely state of Minnesota and lived there my entire life until I was twenty-three. Every year since 1886, there is indeed a winter carnival like Piper and Leo describe in the Cities which boasts a fully functioning ice castle, along with ice sculptures and other wintry things everywhere. And for the golf enthusiast, there is even a mini golf course of snow and ice. It's one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. There are only five cities in the world that build the ice palaces, St Paul being one of them. If you ever get the chance, I would totally recommend visiting. You won't regret it. I'd also suggest visiting winter-carnival dot com to see pictures so that you can see what I imagine for the snowglobe on Piper's shelf.

Because I've been asked ... In chapter ten, the comment "_Wanna find a corner and make out_?" is a question that gets thrown around in an episode of _Sports Night_, which is probably my favorite show of all time next to _Buffy_. The question is asked by Natalie to both Jeremy (her boyfriend) and Dana (her best friend and boss). It isn't a serious question toward Dana.

Anything else you may recognize (_Butch and Sundance_, etc.) is pretty much credited within the text. Thanks!

* * *

**And there you have it. If you had half as much fun reading this as I had writing it, well then I had twice as much fun writing it as you did reading it. No animals or Chrises were harmed (really) in the writing of this story. Many, many brain cells were.**


End file.
